


The Light and the Thunder

by clodilla



Category: Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic
Genre: F/M, Female Jedi Knight as Outlander
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-22
Updated: 2018-11-06
Packaged: 2019-04-26 08:56:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 32,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14398659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clodilla/pseuds/clodilla
Summary: She would’ve been a Jedi.  Powerful, wise, a healer and a peacemaker hailed as Barsen’thor, the Warden of the Jedi Order.But the transport taking the little girl to begin her training was attacked by pirates.  Taken captive, she faced a lifetime of slavery in Wild Space…until she was rescued by a patrol ship from Zakuul.  Adopted by the Knight in command of the patrol, she was raised as a loyal citizen of the Eternal Empire and followed her adoptive mother into the Knights of Zakuul.Now, three years after the murder of the Immortal Emperor Valkorion at the hands of the Outlander, she faces both her greatest challenge and greatest opportunity when she draws the interest of Emperor Arcann himself…





	1. Prologue - The Disappeared

#### 

Prologue – The Disappeared

  
“That’s the last of the pirates, ma’am,” the voice echoed over the comm. “The ship is secure.”  
  
Knight-Captain Lirana Caducis nodded, though as she was alone on the bridge of this now-captured pirate ship it was a needless, if instinctive, gesture. “Excellent work. Can we fly this bucket of bolts back to Zakuul, or will it have to be towed?”  
  
“Towed, ma’am,” the Knight-Lieutenant who’d led the boarding party replied. “The hyperdrive motivator is so bypassed and crosswired it’ll have to be replaced, not just repaired. It’s a wonder it’s held together this long.”  
  
“Very well, Lieutenant,” Lirana said. “Are there any captives?” Her patrols had been tracking this ship for months, bringing civilians captured fleeing the chaos of the rest of the galaxy for sale as slaves to those who still defied the might and justice of the Eternal Empire. They’d managed to get away each time before. _But their luck ran out today,_ she thought with a grim smile. Found floating dead in space, they were sitting ginxes for a Zakuulan patrol ship with bigger guns and better shields. _And better crews,_ she added, reminding herself to write up a commendation for the gunners who’d taken out the pirates’ shields and guns with pinpoint accuracy. It wouldn’t have been satisfying to finally capture the pirate ship only for any captives on board to die in blasts from Zakuulan guns.  
  
“Just one,” he sighed. “And Captain…”  
  
“Yes?” she prompted. Lieutenant Lansin was a promising officer, but still a little too slow on both the uptake and the debrief.  
  
He sighed again. “You’d better come down here.”  
  
“Very well,” she said, suppressing an impatient noise as she closed the comm channel and headed back into the ship’s passageways. Either the trip wouldn’t be worth her while, and the lieutenant would learn yet another lesson in the importance of clear and concise communication with his superior officers – or the situation was truly beyond the young man’s current verbal capabilities. In which case a lesson would still have to be taught, though it wouldn’t be nearly as painful.  
  
The cargo bay doors opened upon a small cluster of Knights gathered on the far side of the room, standing around a small sack lying in a corner. All wore the sleek white uniforms of the Enforcement Division, with only small insignia on their chestplates indicating their rank and specializations. Sergeant Dax, their ship’s medic, stood near the bodies of several pirates lying on the floor around them, scanning them to make sure they were dead. Hearing her entrance, Lieutenant Lansin turned and marched quickly towards her. “Captain,” he breathed nervously, saluting, “We think –“  
  
“Why am I here, Lieutenant?” she snapped, glaring down at the dirty, ragged bundle on the deck. “Where is the captive you –“  
  
The bundle moved.  
  
Lirana stepped back and reached instinctively for her lightsaber, but stopped as one pale, thin leg unfolded itself from the underneath the rags, followed by another. As the small body moved her eyes saw hair that might have been a reddish brown or even auburn but was so dirty it had seemed part of the filthy clothes the child was wearing, before the small body turned enough for her to see a pair of grey eyes peering at her from underneath the matted strands. _Human,_ Lirana realized as a cold shiver ran down her spine. _A girl._ The child’s wrists were bound in a pair of stun cuffs, and as her head came around to glance at the Knights assembled around her Lirana saw three telltale spikes jutting out through her hair at the base of her neck – the control nodes of a slave collar.  
  
“Sergeant Dax thinks she’s four years old,” Lansin said softly as the girl glared at one Knight and then another. “Maybe five, if she’s small for her age. Even with the cuffs and the collar, we think they kept her sedated, too.” He waved a hand over at a table, where an empty vial and a used syringe lay. “Looks like they ran out, though,” he added, shifting his gaze to the corpses nearby. While the bodies Lirana had seen scattered in the halls of the ship bore the marks of death by lightsaber or a Skytrooper’s blaster, these were contorted and crumpled up in bloody heaps – as if someone had reached out with the Force and crushed the life out of them, Lirana thought with a sharp intake of breath.  
  
She focused again on the girl, reaching out with her mind – then almost staggered back a step, her senses recoiling as if a bright light had suddenly been turned on in a dark room. Every cell in the girl’s body was practically vibrating with the Force, tensed and ready to strike. _Such strength_ , Lirana marveled, reaching out again more carefully when those small grey eyes snapped to hers, _such natural ability…_ She waved at Sergeant Dax to come closer, then pointed at the girl. “Can you take that collar off?”  
  
“We don’t carry that kind of equipment, ma’am,” Dax said carefully.  
  
“Of course we don’t,” she snapped, then paused to take a deep breath and remind herself that Dax was a talented medic who didn’t deserve to have her anger at what had happened to this child taken out on him. “But these pirates do, so I imagine it’s lying around here in this room somewhere,” she added tightly. “Find it.”  
  
“Yes, ma’am.” Dax saluted crisply, then practically sprinted towards some worktables on the other side of the room.  
  
Lirana turned back to Lieutenant Lansin. “Do we know where they were going?”  
  
His professional expression twisted. “No flight plan was entered into the ship’s computers, but based on their course I’d guess Nahut’s Pit,” he spat, naming an abandoned asteroid mine notorious as a haven for pirates and slavers. “Would they really sell a child to the pleasure houses?”  
  
“Yes,” Lirana snarled, “But she was probably going to be sold to one of the training houses that supply fighters for the arenas. Can’t you feel how strong she is in the Force?”  
  
“I can,” Lansin nodded as Dax trotted back over to the girl, carrying a Y-shaped implement with energy nodes on both tips. “But where –“  
  
No sooner had Dax’s fingertips touched the girl’s hair than a powerful blast surged through the room, sending the medic flying through the air and staggering Lirana and the lieutenant. Dax landed on the deck back over by the worktable, stunned but otherwise unharmed, as Lirana turned her eyes to the source of the blast – the girl. She was still sitting where they’d found her, but her entire body was now surrounded by the yellow shimmer of a Force shield. _Half my Knights can’t produce a shield that strong after years of training…who are you?_ Lirana wondered, spreading her hands open wide as she took a cautious step towards the child. “It’s alright,” Lirana said softly. “We’re Knights. You’re safe with us.” The girl’s eyes had locked onto hers as soon as she began to speak, but the child said nothing in response. “We’ll take you home,” Lirana continued, taking a step forward – only to stop as the Force shield around the girl glowed brighter. _She doesn’t understand me,_ Lirana realized – _she’s not Zakuulan._  
  
With a deep breath, she switched to the clumsy language the other parts of the galaxy called ‘Basic’. “We’re not going to hurt you,” she said carefully. All Knights had been ordered to learn Basic a few years back, even though all Zakuulan ships were still forbidden from entering both Republic and Imperial space. Lirana found herself wishing she’d worked a little harder on those lessons. “You’re safe now.” The girl’s shield didn’t waver, but the fear in her eyes dimmed – she’d understood. “What’s your name?” The girl blinked. “My name is Lirana,” she said, laying a hand on her chest, then pointing at the child. “What’s your name?”  
  
“Mae.” Her voice was weak and hoarse, but unwavering.  
  
“May?” Lirana repeated, smiling. “That’s a lovely name.” The girl showed no reaction, but Lirana could feel the tingling whispers of another mind reaching out towards hers. “I’m sorry Dax startled you,” she continued softly, letting the girl’s thoughts touch her own. “He was going to take that thing off your neck.” She reached back towards the girl’s mind, allowing her to feel the anger and disgust that filled Lirana at the thought of what had happened here. “We’re here to help you,” she said, hoping the girl – _May? Mae?_ – could hear and feel the truth of her words. “Will you let us help you?”  
  
Mae’s eyes dropped away from holding Lirana’s gaze to look at the cuffs that still bound her wrists. “Hurts.”  
  
“I can take them off,” Lirana replied, risking another slow step closer to Mae. “Will you let me?” Mae didn’t answer, but the Force shield began to fade. “We can make it all stop hurting,” she added.  
  
The girl’s eyes met hers once again. “Promise?”  
  
Lirana knelt, unclipping her lightsaber from her belt and laying it at the girl’s feet. “On my honor as a Knight of Zakuul.”  
  
Mae’s gaze focused on the weapon, and the older woman felt a flicker of recognition in the girl’s mind. The shield vanished. “What’s Zakuul?” the girl asked softly.  
  
“It’s where I’m from,” Lirana answered. Slowly stretching out one hand, she unlocked the stun cuffs around the girl’s wrists with the Force. The cuffs clattered to the deck loudly in the silent room, but even with her hands now free the girl didn’t move. “Where are you from?” Lirana asked, carefully picking her lightsaber back up.  
  
Mae frowned at her hands, thinking. “Home.”  
  
Lirana scowled at the raw and bleeding skin that had been beneath the cuffs – “Dax, bandages,” she snapped – the medic fumbled around the pouches on his utility belt until he finally pulled out a small roll of antiseptic cloth and handed it to the Captain as she reached for Mae’s arms. “This may sting a little –“ The girl jumped back, nearly knocking Dax over and clutching her arms to her chest, but didn’t re-raise her Force shield. “Okay, okay,” Lirana said quickly, holding up her hands to show Mae she wasn’t trying to touch her anymore. “We’ll take care of that later.” The girl stared at her warily, but didn’t move. “Dax is going to take that collar off of your neck now, alright?” she continued, pointing at the medic so Mae would know what to expect.  
  
The girl kept staring at her, unblinking, and Lirana again felt the slight whisper of the girl's mind touching hers before Mae nodded. Dax reached out carefully towards Mae’s neck to brush her hair away from the collar. She jumped a bit when his fingers made contact, but stayed still. “This may sting a bit,” he said in Basic, waiting until she gave him another small nod before attaching the tool to the collar and letting it start to work. Mae winced and let out a soft whimper as the anchors unscrewed themselves out of her flesh – Lirana had the sudden urge to wrap the girl up in her arms and swear that no one would ever hurt her again – but then the tool beeped, interrupting her thoughts. “All done,” Dax told Mae gently, quickly dropping the collar to the floor. “She’s probably only been here a week or two,” he said to Lirana, switching back to Zakuulan. “See how the skin around the edges is still still chafed and raw, not scarred over?” Lirana craned her neck to look where Dax was pointing, at a patch of skin still red with fresh injuries as the girl’s wrists had been. “We’ll have to do a full exam back on board to know if she’s suffered any…other injuries,” Dax added with a snarl. “But if she was going to be sold to the arenas it’s not likely –“  
  
He broke off suddenly, eyes widening. “What is it?” Lirana asked.  
  
“Look, ma’am,” he breathed, pointing again at the girl’s neck. The skin that had been raw and bloody at the edges was knitting itself back together before their eyes, regaining a healthy color free of any scars by the second.  
  
Lirana reached out for the girl’s hands. “Can I see?” she asked. Wordlessly, Mae held out her arms, and Lirana saw that the wounds she’d attempted to bandage moments before were gone without a trace. “She’s a healer,” Lirana murmured excitedly. For all their strength in the Force, healers were rare among the Knights of Zakuul. _But not among the Jedi…_  
  
“Only when she wants to be,” Lieutenant Lansin said quietly behind her.  
  
Lirana glanced back over at the bodies on the other side of the room, then turned back to see Mae staring at her again. “Pirates?” the girl asked in a low voice.  
  
“They’re all dead,” Lirana reassured Mae, feeling a cold fist grasp her heart as she realized that if the girl had been healing herself constantly underneath the collar and the cuffs there was no telling how long she had truly been their captive.  
  
Mae’s eyes narrowed. “Good.”  
  
Lirana sat back on her heels, studying the girl closely. She wore just a simple shirt and pants that could have been bought or made anywhere in the galaxy. There was no chance any identity card she might have had would still be on the ship – though Lirana resolved to have it thoroughly searched on the journey back to Zakuul, just in case. No visible tattoos or other marks – any luggage would already have been plundered, sold, or trashed – _who are you?_ Mae looked away from the older woman’s intense gaze, one hand wandering up to her neck to pull a chain out from under her shirt and start playing with its pendant. “That’s very pretty,” Lirana said, even though she couldn’t really see it through Mae’s fingers. “Who gave it to you?”  
  
“Dad,” Mae said quickly.  
  
_Good, something she remembers clearly._ “What’s his name?” Lirana asked.  
  
Mae frowned and rubbed the pendant harder. It was a cylinder of silvery metal with a hollow core, and through the openings in its sides Lirana could see a red crystalline shard in its center. “Dad.”  
  
“Do you remember where your Dad is?” Lirana continued hopefully. _How many young children know their parents by their names anyway?_ “Where your home is?”  
  
The girl pressed her lips together as if she wanted to speak the words but didn’t know how to say them. “Moon,” she finally muttered in frustration.  
  
Lirana gave the girl what she hoped was an encouraging smile. “You were on a ship. Do you remember where you were going?”  
  
“City,” Mae said.  
  
“Was anyone else was with you on the ship?” Lirana asked. “Your Dad, your Mom, grandparents?”  
  
Mae stopped fiddling with the pendant and wrapped her arms back around her chest. “Mom,” she said in a whisper.  
  
Lirana’s heart stopped. “Where is she now?”  
  
“Dead.”  
  
The entire room seemed to darken at Mae’s flat, emotionless declaration. Lirana let out a deep breath and reached out towards her. “I’m sorry, May,” she said softly. “Do you remember what her name –“ As soon as her fingers touched the girl’s hand images started flashing through her mind. A tall brown-haired woman armed with a blaster and shielding a child behind her as the door to their room was blown open. The same woman, blood seeping from a wound in her side, being dragged down a passageway. Then that woman, her dying brown eyes fixed on the trembling child with a slave collar on her neck, being held down by two of the pirates whose corpses were in the room while a third climbed on top of her –  
  
“She fought them,” Mae’s voice suddenly said clearly. “She was wounded. When they realized she was going to die before they could sell her, they raped her until she was dead.” She drew in a long, ragged breath. “That’s why I killed them,” she growled, her grey eyes hard as durasteel. “I know I should be sorry, but I’m not.”  
  
“No,” Lirana snarled, torn between letting out a scream of rage and pulling the girl into her arms. “No, May, you shouldn’t be.” Mae blinked, a confused frown spreading across her face. “We use the Force to bring justice to those who deserve it,” Lirana told her before shooting one last hateful glace at the pile of bodies, “And they deserved what they received.” Mae said nothing, but she reached a hand up to take hold of her pendant again, and Lirana felt the torrent of emotions running through her calm down a little. “Do you remember your mother’s name?” she asked the girl gently.  
  
Mae closed her hand around the pendant and shook her head. “No.”  
  
“Her memory has almost completely shut itself down,” Dax muttered sadly in Zakuulan. “It was the only way to try and forget everything that happened.”  
  
“Almost completely, but not quite,” Lirana said, standing and taking her lightsaber off of her belt. “She knew what this was when she saw it. That’s why she dropped her shield.” The other Knights around her nodded. “She’s been around Force-users before. She’s been taught to trust them.” Lirana looked back down at the girl, whose hand still clutched her pendant while her eyes stared down at the deck. _I’m sorry none of them were here to protect you, but we’re here now. I’m here now._  
  
“Jedi or Sith?” Lansin asked.  
  
Lirana watched Mae for some sign that the girl recognized those words, but she remained motionless. “Based on her accent I’d say she’s not from Imperial space, so probably Jedi,” Lirana shrugged. “Doesn’t narrow it down very much, though.”  
  
“We’re downloading the ship’s logs – maybe they kept records of which ships they intercepted and what captives they took,” Lansin suggested.  
  
Lirana shook her head. “Not likely. Slavers like destroying the evidence of their crimes, not creating more of it.” She clipped her lightsaber back onto her belt with a sigh. “Even if we figured out what ship she was on, it would’ve stopped at any number of worlds to take on passengers. Without a copy of the manifest…”  
  
“And it’s not like we can just call up Republic Fleet Command on Coruscant and ask,” Lansin said darkly. The penalty for any crew, military or civilian, that violated the Emperor’s ban on contact with the Republic or the Empire was death, no matter the circumstances. Many still risked it, figuring the reward in profit from smuggling or slaving was worth it.  
  
_Not today,_ Lirana thought grimly. “That assumes it was a registered flight to begin with.” _For anyone._  
  
“She may remember more as she recovers,” Dax said, though even he didn’t look like he believed it.  
  
“Maybe,” Lirana said, “But right now she’s our responsibility.”  
  
“Right,” Lansin nodded. “I’ll have Dax take her to medbay while I get started on the paperwork to register her.” He looked down and held his hand out to Mae. “Are you ready to go?”  
  
The girl stayed still, but Lirana felt her mind reaching out towards her own again. Mae’s thoughts were full of fear and doubt – where was she going? Was she going to be safe? What was going to happen to her? Instinctively Lirana reached back with her own thoughts, reassuring the girl that she’d be safe on Zakuul. _No one will ever hurt you again. I promise._ The surge of relief and happiness she felt from Mae in response was so powerful it overwhelmed Lirana’s mind, and time suddenly seemed to freeze as the girl finally looked up at her.  
  
Lirana had always been too focused on her career to give any realistic thought to marriage or children. There had been lovers, of course, and she was very much looking forward to seeing a certain Deputy Assistant Under-Minister of the Treasury when she returned to Zakuul. But any commitments that might restrict the assignments she could take or otherwise distract her from her duties were simply not up for consideration.  
  
She knew the protocol for the care of children who either didn’t know where home was or didn’t have a home to return to. Upon arrival on Zakuul Mae would be processed and registered as a Zakuulan citizen, then delivered to a state-run orphanage where she would be raised if she wasn’t fortunate enough to be adopted. Lirana had visited one, once, for the mandatory interview of an applicant to the Knights Academy. The orphans there were well-fed and clothed, playing in the schoolyard like any other children. It had all been comfortable and clean…and as soulless as a morgue. She reached down and brushed a few strands of hair away from the girl’s face. No, she thought forcefully as those mist-grey eyes met hers. _The gods have delivered her into my care. Who am I to refuse their gift?_  
  
“That’s alright, Lieutenant,” Lirana said, kneeling back down in front of the girl. “I’ll take her, and I’ll handle the paperwork. You clean this ship up and secure it for towing.” She reached out her arms towards Mae. “We’ll get there faster if you let me carry you. Can I do that?” The girl nodded. Lirana picked her up slowly, being careful to avoid the parts of her armor with angular points as she cradled Mae against her chest. Her Knights saluted as she left the room and headed down the hall towards the docking seal that led back to their ship. She had a feeling this little healer wouldn’t be in the medbay for long, and while the form to register a non-native Zakuulan refugee or orphan as a legal resident was short she wasn’t sure how complicated the other form she was planning to fill out might be. “Your name will still be May,” she whispered to the girl.  
  
“It’s spelled with an ‘enth,’ not with a ‘yirt’,” Mae shot back stubbornly, as if she’d known Lirana had it wrong in her thoughts – and that this was not the first time she’d had to correct the spelling of her own name.  
  
_That’s why she remembered it._ “My apologies, ‘Mae with an enth’,” Lirana said, giving her a smile before tightening her grip on the girl. “I won’t ever get it wrong again.”  


________________________________________

##### Twenty-two years later…

The sentry to Mae’s left started tapping his fingers on the staff of his lightsaber pike again. _If he doesn’t stop that I’m going to grab my lightsaber and_ – “Something wrong, Sergeant?” she asked. _Stay calm, Mae. Getting court-martialed less than a year after getting this posting would look bad._  
  
“Just wondering why we’re still here, Lieutenant,” he sighed. They were two of a dozen Knights of Zakuul standing at one end of a long corridor. In front of them, a set of doors concealed a docking tube. Windows lining both sides of the hall gave them a distractingly beautiful view into space and of the planet below. Thin towers with twinkling lights poked through the clouds, some of them through the atmosphere and into space itself. “We should’ve been off duty an hour ago.” At the other end of the corridor another pair of doors led into the largest and grandest of those towers – the Spire. The light from the stars glimmered on the golden armor that marked them as members of the Emperor’s Own, the division of the Knights specially chosen to guard that tower and all it contained.  
  
She glanced over at Knight-Captain Grael, sensing the frown beneath his helmet. He’d told her what their assignment was, but had chosen not to share it with the rest of their unit. “We serve at the pleasure of the Emperor,” she said calmly. “Until our mission is complete we will stay at our post.”  
  
“Yes, ma’am,” he replied, with more than a hint of sarcasm in his voice. “I’m sure the Emperor is well-served by having a dozen of his Knights standing around in a docking bay corridor when we should be hunting down the scum who killed Prince Thexan.”  
  
Mae winced, and it took a long, deep breath before her jaw unclenched. “We all grieve for the Prince,” she rasped. Though his tenure as High Justice of Zakuul and commander of the Knights had been short, he’d been both respected and well-liked from the Knight-Generals down to first-year cadets in the Knights’ Academy. His death in combat several weeks ago had left many in the order itching to strike back against someone – anyone – who might be responsible. “Emperor Valkorion will avenge his son when the time is right. For now, if our orders are to stand here and wait for as many hours as necessary, that is what we will do,” she added firmly.  
  
“What are we waiting for, ma’am?”  
  
Another glance over at the Captain was answered by a short nod. “Prince Arcann is inbound with some special guests,” Mae said, turning back to the Sergeant. “We have to stay here to clear them into the Spire.” No one without authorization was permitted to enter the great tower stretching so far into space they were at eye level with their fleet until they were searched and cleared by the Emperor’s Own. The Spire housed much of Zakuul’s government, the royal family’s personal rooms, and was topped by the great spherical chamber of the Eternal Throne itself, so while security wasn’t the most glamorous assignment it was an important one.  
  
“So we could be home, or out doing some real work,” the Sergeant grumbled, “But instead we’re stuck here twiddling our thumbs and waiting for the Prince’s latest show-and-tell project to –“  
  
“Are you sure you want to finish that thought, Sergeant?” Mae snapped. “Or if you find this assignment so dull that you’re twiddling your thumbs, perhaps you’d rather be transferred to Princess Vaylin’s personal guard?”  
  
As prestigious an assignment as it was, Princess Vaylin’s guard had difficulty keeping its ranks at full strength. Turnover, they said, was high. “No, ma’am,” the Sergeant said quickly.  
  
“Then smarten up,” Mae growled, “And keep your opinions to yourself.” She turned away from him as he replied with a nervous salute, hoping she’d terrified him enough to be more careful with what he said and where. _If Prince Arcann had chosen that moment to step through the doors…_ Mae grimaced at that thought as she walked over to where Captain Grael stood, far enough away from the rest of the unit for their conversation to be private.  
  
“Was the threat really necessary?” he asked her softly.  
  
“It’ll make him less likely to forget the warning,” Mae replied in an equally quiet voice. They’d learned quickly in the last few months that being overheard saying anything questionable about Prince Arcann was hazardous to a Knight’s health. Not quite as much as getting caught talking about Princess Vaylin, but close. “He’s not wrong, you know.”  
  
The Captain sighed. “Ours is not to reason why, Lieutenant Caducis.”  
  
“Poetry, sir?” Mae chuckled.  
  
“I find reciting some of the old epic poems from memory to be a good exercise in concentration during the less exciting moments of my day,” Grael said in a more cheerful tone. “Keeps the mind sharp when the body is still. Speaking of…” He stepped closer to her. “Are you still feeling alright?”  
  
Mae rolled her eyes under her helmet. “I told you my injuries looked worse than they actually were,” she reassured him. She’d known Grael for years, first as a mentor when he was a junior instructor at the Knights’ Academy, then later as a friend when they served together in a patrol unit. When she’d been accepted into the Emperor’s Own several months ago he’d requested her assignment to his unit in the Internal Security Division, a high-level posting that Knights new to service in the Spire usually couldn’t get. “Honestly, the concussion I got from the boulder that Jedi threw at my head was the worst.” She could sense his skepticism, and had to resist the urge to cross her arms over her chest in exasperation. “I’m a healer, Vurian,” she added, using his given name. “I know when I’m fine and when I’m not.”  
  
“You were injured on my watch, Mae,” he replied. She could feel him pushing back his memories of that operation, and just how badly it almost turned out for all of them. “I just wanted to be sure.”  
  
“My mother already worries about me enough. I don’t need you piling on,” she huffed. “Sir.”  
  
She knew if she could see his face he’d be rolling his eyes at her now. “Izax forbid that the people who care about you also worry about you,” he deadpanned, leading both of them to laugh softly at the other. “By the way, how is she adjusting to life as a Knight-General?”  
  
“I’m not sure yet,” Mae shrugged. “Half the time she’s grateful for all the aides and secretaries who ensure she arrives on time for her lunches and meetings with this minister and that executive – and the other half of the time she wants to flip over her desk, storm out of the Spire, commandeer a patrol ship and do some real work,” she said, glancing briefly back at the Sergeant standing on the left side of the doors. _No, he’s most definitely not wrong._  
  
“I hear a planet called Jedha might be next,” Grael said in a low voice.  
  
Mae closed her eyes, trying to remember whether that planet had been in the intelligence brief on the Republic or the Sith Empire. “Isn’t there a Jedi enclave there?” Grael nodded. “So it was a Jedi that killed Prince Thexan?”  
  
She felt a darkness flash through his emotions – the usual anger and grief, but there was something else… “I don’t know,” he said slowly. _Doubt,_ she realized. _Doubt and confusion. Does he believe those impossible rumors?_  
  
“I can’t believe any Jedi would be strong enough to defeat him,” Mae said, trying to focus her thoughts on the enemies they’d fought during their raids in the Core Worlds rather than what she’d sensed in Grael’s mind. She knew there were rumors that Thexan hadn’t died bravely in battle, as the holonews reports said. Whispers that Knights in the princes’ personal guard said that both Thexan and his twin brother Arcann had returned safely from their raids on the Core Worlds, and while the two of them were seen entering the Spire only Prince Arcann came out alive. “Certainly no Force-blind Republic solder could, even if the Prince was outnumbered a hundred to one.” No one could ever name one Knight who would admit to having witnessed this with their own eyes, however, so those rumors had been stamped out quickly. _If there’s doubt it’s because we don’t know what happened – but surely the Emperor and Prince Arcann do. They’ll tell us when the time comes to strike back._ “No,” she continued, “My credits would be on a Sith Lord. A member of the Dark Council, maybe.”  
  
“Perhaps,” Grael said, nodding. “Of course, even if we do learn the circumstances of his death, we may never know exactly who –“ He cut himself off as the indicator light above the doors began flashing. “Finally,” he muttered. All of them snapped to attention as a shuttle came into view, Grael and Mae as the two officers with lightsabers clasping their hands behind backs while the others lining the corridor ignited their lightsaber pikes. The shuttled slowed, then glided past the corridor’s windows until it came to rest by the docking tube. They heard the whirring sound of the tube extending, followed by the whoosh of depressurization. Mae tried to focus on her breathing as the next seconds ticked by in silence – she’d never seen him up close before.  
  
The Sergeant jumped when the doors swished aside. Prince Arcann strode into the corridor, his armor such a bright, gleaming white it almost hurt Mae’s eyes to look at it. The black metal mask covering his nose, mouth, and the left side of his face was a sinister contrast, and as he moved towards them the light reflected off the golden visor set in its middle like the flashes from a blaster rifle. His one visible eye was a darker gold, almost the color of molten rock, and seemed to burn into her with the same heat as its gaze flicked between her and Captain Grael. Grateful that her helmet concealed her eyes, Mae risked a quick look at his left arm, a robotic replacement for the one lost in the explosion on Korriban that had also damaged his face. _Though the scars that you can see don’t look as bad in person as they do on the holonews,_ she found herself thinking.  
  
Two figures now came into the corridor behind the prince, both with lightsabers on their belts and their hands in stun cuffs. The first was a tall, broad-chested man in a black and red battlesuit that covered his whole body, including a mask, with sharp metal spikes mounted on his shoulders. She recognized it immediately from the Imperial brief as belonging to Darth Marr, a member of the Sith Empire’s Dark Council. He made the young woman beside him seem tiny by comparison, but though she was slender she was about the same height as Mae. Her hair was light red and cut short in very much the same way that Mae’s was, with bangs falling across a silvery circlet on her forehead. While her clothes appeared at first glance to be ordinary, Mae could feel through the Force the protections and powers woven into them. The two gleaming lightsabers clipped to her belt marked her as a powerful Jedi warrior, but though Mae’s senses told her she knew who this woman was she could not remember where she’d seen her in the intelligence briefs.  
  
Captain Grael and Mae saluted when Prince Arcann came to a stop in front of them. “Your Royal Highness,” Grael said crisply as a half dozen black-uniformed security troopers from Arcann’s flagship came in behind the Sith and the Jedi, blaster rifles in their hands. “Please wait one moment while we clear the prisoners.”  
  
“Be quick,” Arcann said, in a voice much lower than Mae had imagined him having, even with the metallic echo from speaking through the mask. “My father is waiting.”  
  
“Yes, Your Highness.” Grael turned his head towards the Knights on either side of the prisoners. “Confiscate their weapons.”  
  
“Leave them,” Arcann growled.  
  
The Knights who had started towards the prisoners froze. Arcann had succeeded his brother as High Justice, and just as Thexan’s black armor had been the opposite of Arcann’s so their personalities seemed to be as well. Taciturn and given to bursts of anger where Thexan had been easygoing and calm, some Knights grumbled that they wished he’d succumbed to his injuries while Thexan had survived his, rather than the other way around. “As you wish, Your Highness,” Grael said smoothly after a long moment, waving the Knights back to their posts before turning to Mae. “Lieutenant?”  
  
Mae pulled out her datapad, already updated with the files that intelligence had gotten from the ship the prisoners had been captured on. She started the genetic scan of the Sith first, waiting until the datapad beeped happily. “Identity confirmed,” said, hoping her voice sounded as even to everyone else as it did in her head. “Darth Marr, Member of the Dark Council of the Sith Empire.” Tapping the datapad again, she held it up as a beam of light shot out from it and began sweeping over Darth Marr. “Scanning for weapons.”  
  
“Confirmed?” the Sith asked, his voice low and modulated by his mask.  
  
“We recovered the records from your ship’s computers,” Arcann explained. “Or what was left of them. Fascinating reading,” he drawled.  
  
Mae grinned beneath her helmet as the datapad beeped again. “No weapons other than the lightsaber,” she said to Captain Grael. “No chemical, biological, or other agents detected. Clear.” She turned towards the Jedi, still feeling the slight tickle in the back of her mind that told her she knew this woman even as she was unable to recall where she’d seen her face before. After what seemed like an eternity, the datapad finally lit up and beeped. “Identity confirmed,” Mae said quickly, eyes scanning through the file scrolling down the screen. “Master Sievana Davu, Battlemaster of the Jedi Order.” Labeled the ‘Hero of Tython’ for almost singlehandedly driving back a Sith attack on the Jedi homeworld of Tython, and ‘Battlemaster’ for leading the attack on some 300-year old Sith named Darth Revan, the file also said she had killed the Sith Emperor in single combat. “Scanning,” she said as the datapad went to work again. _Why is a Sith Lord here with her, then? And what were they doing in our space?_  
  
“You Jedi are quite influential,” Arcann said to Master Davu as the scan continued. “To think that you alone could alter the tide of a war at that scale…impressive.”  
  
The Jedi did not respond for a long moment. “I sense that you also have a strong connection to the Force,” she said calmly.  
  
“I suspect we have more than that in common,” Arcann replied.  
  
_What does that mean?_ Mae wondered, frowning at the datapad as it continued to scan. _What could a Prince of Zakuul and a Jedi possibly have in common?_ She glanced back up at Master Davu, noticing for the first time that her eyes were a soft grey, almost the same shade as Mae’s own. It was an unusual color, and Mae couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen someone else with them. _Now that I see the file I remember reading it, but why can’t I remember where I’ve seen her before?_ She glanced back down at the datapad, gritting her teeth to keep herself from tapping it impatiently, then looked back up –  
  
The Jedi was staring at her, grey eyes seeming to be able to see beneath the helmet and into another set of grey eyes, and for a second Mae could feel that she was asking herself that same question – then the datapad beeped. Mae forced her eyes down to its screen. “No weapons other than the lightsaber,” she said after a long, slow breath. “No chemical, biological, or other agents detected. Clear.”  
  
“Acknowledged,” Grael said, his relief palpable in his feelings if not in his voice. “Thank you for your patience, Your Highness. The prisoners are cleared to enter the Spire.” He and Mae both stepped aside, and without another word Prince Arcann marched past them, with the prisoners and troopers following silently behind. Grael waited until they were halfway down the corridor before moving to stand next to Mae again. “Jedi and Sith, apparently working together,” he murmured quietly. “Who would’ve guessed their fear of us was greater than their hatred of each other?”  
  
Mae shook her head as the doors opposite them opened, and a single man in the grey and gold robes of a Scion approached the Prince. “Zakuul wasn’t listed in their ship’s navicomputers,” she said softly. “They don’t know who we are. They didn’t even know we were here.” She could sense Grael’s surprise – it didn’t make any sense to her, either, but the data said what it said. “Who knows what they came all this way for?”  
  
“If the Prince didn’t get it out of them already, the Emperor will,” Grael nodded. They fell into silence as Arcann spoke with the Scion – Heskal, the leader of that superstitious order claiming to foresee the future – since they couldn’t leave their posts until the Prince was safely inside the Spire. Mae let her feelings survey Master Davu carefully, sensing the power lurking beneath her unthreatening appearance. It was far greater than any other Jedi that Mae had faced, but also different. Darker, she thought, even though she knew Jedi claimed to use only the “light side” of the Force. _Was she there during the battle on –_  
  
Master Davu’s head turned slightly, and Mae could feel the Jedi’s mind reaching back towards hers – but then Heskal wheeled around and stomped back towards the doors he’d entered from, and her attention snapped back to Prince Arcann. He didn’t follow Heskal into the Spire – _I wouldn’t want to share an elevator with him, either,_ Mae chuckled – instead speaking with his prisoners as they watched the Scion leave. _Such strength, such resolve…_ Mae realized she’d been wrong. _A Jedi could’ve killed Prince Thexan. What damage could this one do?_ “We need to keep a close eye on that one,” Mae said to the Captain as Arcann and the others began moving away again.  
  
“I think the protection unit will take one look at that spiky armor and know what to do,” Grael laughed.  
  
“I meant the other one,” Mae shot back.  
  
“The Jedi?” he asked with surprise, both at her statement and her agitation. “All they do is repeat slogans and meditate.”  
  
“Not her,” Mae hissed. _Couldn’t he feel it too?_ “She’s doesn’t look dangerous – probably on purpose – but she’s far more powerful than the Sith.”  
  
Grael glanced back at the Jedi, now disappearing into the elevator with Arcann, Darth Marr, and the troopers. “Our job is done,” he said as the doors closed. “Time to call up to the protection unit. Let them know the Prince and his prisoners are on their way.”  
  
“Yes, sir,” Mae grumbled. “Shutting up now, sir.”  
  
He laughed out loud at that. “Not likely.” Mae answered him with a soft laugh of her own as he pulled out his comm. “Guardian Unit 1, this is Watcher Unit 2,” he said.  
  
“Watcher Unit 2, I read you,” the comm squawked back.  
  
“The drake and his prizes have been cleared into the Spire, estimate five minutes to your location,” Grael intoned.  
  
“Copy that Watcher Unit 2,” the comm replied. “Your unit is now relieved of duty.”  
  
“Much appreciated, Guardian Unit 1.” Grael gave Mae a long look, then took a deep breath. “Be advised, while the Sith may look scary it’s the Jedi you should keep an eye on,” he added, his voice firm and confident.  
  
There was a slight pause on the other end of the call. “Heard and understood, Watcher Unit 2,” the voice finally said. “Thanks for the warning. Clear.”  
  
“Clear,” Grael said, deactivating the comm and turning to the other Knights. “Alright everyone, you’re dismissed. Don’t forget we have another briefing on the Chiss Ascendancy scheduled for 0800 hours tomorrow morning.” Mae waited by his side as the others deactivated their lightsaber pikes and made their way towards the elevator. “Tyth’s breath, I’m glad that’s over,” he exhaled as soon as the doors slid closed, leaving them alone in the corridor. “Do you want to get a drink?” he asked, tilting his head side to side and rubbing the back of his neck.  
  
Mae stretched her back out as best she could in her armor – she would never admit it, but her body did still ache from her injuries. “Several.” Especially when she had to be on her feet for hours on end.  
  
He stopped, and she could easily picture the narrowed eyes staring at her underneath his helmet. “Are you okay?” he asked sharply.  
  
“A little stiff, but I’m fine,” she replied. He crossed his arms across his chest, lowering his head just enough for her to know he was giving her his _I-know-you-too-well-to-believe-that_ look. “I just…” She sighed, trying to fit together the feelings she’d gotten from the Jedi into something that made sense. “I just have a bad feeling about this,” she finally shrugged.  
  
“Don’t tell me you’re buying into the Scions’ bullshit about a future ‘catastrophe’ now,” he laughed.  
  
She snorted derisively. “Please.” His head didn’t move, and she knew he wasn’t going to let her off the hook until he got a better explanation. _Not that I’ve got one._ “Still,” she started, rubbing one hand on the upper part of her chestplate as if she could reach through it and fiddle with the small crystal pendant hanging on a chain around her neck, like she always did when she was really trying to think. “Do you ever get the feeling you just saw destiny walk past you?”  
  
“In this job? Every day,” Grael replied, starting slowly down the corridor towards the elevator. “And I’m happy to let it pass by and leave me alone.”


	2. Chapter 1 - Tests

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who's reading!

#### 

Chapter 1 – Tests

  
Minister of Ministers – a puffed-up title for a chief of staff, but his wife liked throwing it around at parties – Yermo stood, and the hushed conversations in the Spire’s main briefing room fell silent. “Good morning, Your Majesty,” he said, bowing to the man in the white armor and the black mask seated in a high-backed chair at the head of the table. “Ministers,” he continued, nodding at the various men and women seated up and down the length of the table – “Everyone,” he finished, nodding to the Knights and aides standing along the edges of the room. “If you’ll open up the agenda for today’s briefing we’ll get started.” The room filled with the sound of datapads being tapped and the responding beeps from the devices. “First, the situation on Bothawui. I’m afraid we’ve received a disturbing update early this morning, which should be coming through to all of you now.” Emperor Arcann’s single visible golden eye narrowed.  
  
Yermo took a deep breath, thanking the gods that High Justice Vaylin’s chair at the Emperor’s right hand remained empty. “A small group of Bothan rebels stole one of our shuttles and infiltrated the Star Fortress,” he said. “They were able to destroy several of the EPHEMERIS datacores and significantly damage the Sun Generator, then personally assault Exarch Rakil before finally being defeated. Six Knights are dead, and a further twenty Knights and other personnel were wounded, including the Exarch. An indeterminate number of Skytroopers were destroyed, but I note that our systems have already logged an automated request for the Star Fortress to be resupplied. That wouldn’t have happened unless over fifty percent of their Skytroopers were offline.” He glanced down at his datapad to confirm that the message containing the update had been forwarded to everyone seated at the table – _Praise Izak that Vaylin’s not here!_ – then looked up at the Emperor. “Do you have any questions, Your Majesty?”  
  
The Emperor slowly picked up his datapad and scrolled through the message, but remained leaning back in his chair with such a casual, relaxed appearance he could’ve been a Hutt on his lounger. The absolute silence in the room, however, betrayed the knowledge of all present that it was just that – an appearance. “Have Exarch Rakil brought back to Zakuul as soon as possible,” Arcann growled, tossing the datapad back down on the table. “He will answer for this unacceptable lapse in our security.”  
  
“Of course, Your Majesty,” Yermo said quickly. “May we have your permission to send teams to begin repairs and facilitate the resupplying of the Star Fortress?”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
Yermo tapped his datapad again, trying not to show his relief that whatever reaction the Emperor would have to this incident was not being directed at the messenger. He liked Exarch Rakil, but any failure in Emperor Arcann’s eye had only one inevitable consequence. “Thank you, Your Majesty. Minister Durah?”  
  
The Minister of War cleared his throat and straightened up in his chair. “Your Majesty, a cowardly and shameful attack such as this demands a response. I have spoken with the High Command, and they recommend sending an occupation force to Bothawui to pacify the local population as we did on Denon.”  
  
Arcann said nothing for a few seconds, slowly drumming the fingers of his cybernetic hand against the table. “I hardly think these rebels are cowards, Minister Durah,” he said slowly. “They had to know this was a suicide mission. Even if they’d succeeded in destroying the Star Fortress they wouldn’t have escaped the blast in time. Whether in victory or defeat, they sacrificed themselves in the hope that others would be inspired to continue the fight.” The hand clenched into fist. “We must show the galaxy the price of such defiance.”  
  
“Certainly, Your Majesty,” Minister Durah nodded quickly. “What are your orders?”  
  
“Do we know where these rebels were based?” Arcann asked.  
  
Minister Durah glanced back down at the message. “We don’t have an exact location yet, but the shuttle was stolen from one of our outposts in the northern part of the main continent,” he replied. “The rebels’ base is likely to be nearby.”  
  
“Close enough,” Arcann growled. “Evacuate all our forces from the planet, then when the Star Fortress is back online target that area and fire.”  
  
Durah blinked and froze, afraid to look around at his fellow ministers to see if their reactions were the same. Though they’d never actually fired one before, they knew the destructive power the Star Fortresses were designed to unleash. Hundreds of millions of Bothans, if not billions, would be killed, and that area of the planets’ surface would be devastated for generations to come. But the order had been given, and he didn’t dare make the Emperor repeat it. “As you wish, Your Majesty,” he said as evenly as he could. “We will begin preparations. You will of course be informed when we are ready so you can give final approval.”  
  
“Unnecessary,” Arcann said with a wave of his hand. “Report to me on the results after the bombardment is finished.” Durah nodded and buried his face in his datapad. “Is there anything else on this matter?”  
  
“Your Majesty,” Supreme Knight-General Fiala began, light glinting off his golden armor as he leaned forward in his chair, “Seeing as these rebels penetrated so deeply into one of our most secure facilities, we must reassess our vulnerabilities on all fronts. Even the Spire may have weaknesses that a more organized attack by more professional operatives might exploit.”  
  
Arcann glanced over at the empty chair on his right. Vaylin enjoyed the power and prestige that came with being High Justice and the commander of the Knights of Zakuul, but had no interest in the day-to-day work of actually managing them. “What do you propose?” Not that he blamed her – he’d much rather still be in bed than sitting in a meeting, but despite the legions of droids caring for his citizens many needs Zakuul still did not run itself.  
  
“The Emperor’s Own will conduct a thorough review of all security measures in the Spire and provide recommendations for improvement,” Fiala said. “I would ask Your Majesty to approve them.”  
  
Frowning underneath his mask, Arcann bit back the retort that Fiala shouldn’t even be speaking – that he should be making his proposal to the High Justice and that she should be the one to bring it to the Emperor – but with Vaylin absent, there was no avoiding going over her head and appealing directly to him. “When you provide the report to my sister, send me a copy,” he finally answered. When she did bother to read reports and attend meetings her insight was valuable to him, so he kept making sure she received all her updates and invitations no matter how often she left him to deal with things on his own. “I will discuss it with her.” _I can at least help her save face – and I know she likes to feel included._  
  
“Yes, Your Majesty,” Fiala nodded. “Also, as the success of these rebels forced Exarch Rakil into personal combat, the risk of an attack on the Spire jeopardizing Your Majesty’s personal security must be considered. This will be part of our review, of course,” he continued, before pausing and drawing in a long breath, “But has Your Majesty given any thought to resuming his private training in combat techniques?”  
  
Arcann’s frown deepened into a snarl. Shortly after assuming the Eternal Throne he’d reluctantly agreed to a suggestion from Fiala’s predecessor that he should train with the Knight-Commander who oversaw training at the Knight Academy, learning how to use both the limitations and advantages of his cybernetic arm and mask in combat. The first session ended early when Arcann Force-choked the Commander to death after one comment about his form too many. Arcann had never sought another trainer, and the Knights had never offered him one until now. _Is it not enough that I’ve been training to use the Force and a lightsaber since I could walk?_ First with Knights chosen by his father, then after he and his brother Thexan had grown too powerful for the Knights they sparred against each other –  
  
Fiala cleared his throat softly. “It would ease the worries of all your people to know Your Majesty is prepared to defend himself against any threat.”  
  
He knew General Fiala was right – any skill that went unused, even in practice, would deteriorate. He hadn’t actually used his lightsaber in anger for over two years, not since he’d freed the Jedi prisoner now called the Outlander and then attacked his father in the throne room. _And lost,_ he thought bitterly. Gratifying as it had been to see the Outlander’s lightsaber stab through his father’s chest, a small part of him was jealous that it hadn’t been his blade that had finished the deed. It had allowed him to honestly blame the Outlander for Emperor Valkorion’s murder, and justify his subsequent conquest of both the Republic and the Empire as crusades of righteous vengeance. Since he’d had her frozen in carbonite after the energy wave triggered by his father’s death left her unconscious, there was no one to say otherwise. He still wondered what would’ve happened if the Outlander hadn’t passed out, if he'd had to fight her – would he have lost that duel, too? Would Vaylin now be the one sitting on the Eternal Throne?  
  
That was not a pleasant thought. “Do you have a candidate in mind, General?” he asked through clenched teeth.  
  
“I do, Your Majesty.” He almost hadn’t chosen her – he liked her too much to willingly expose her to the danger that came with being in close proximity to the Emperor. But she was already one of the best trainers in the Knights despite her youth, talented and strong enough in the Force to demand even Arcann’s respect, and loyal to her core. His duty had left him no choice. “With your permission, I will send you her file for your review.”  
  
Arcann tried to relax back into his chair. “Tell me the basics first.”  
  
Fiala looked down at his datapad to hide his frown. He didn’t want to go into too many details about her in front of roomful of people who were not fellow Knights – therefore immediately deemed untrustworthy – and he certainly didn’t want to use her name. “She’s a Knight-Captain in the Internal Security Division of the Emperor’s Own, Your Majesty,” he started carefully. “One of her duties is to test the skills of every Knight applying to join the Emperor’s Own, and no one is accepted without her approval.” A story he’d heard from her Knight-Commander floated up through his thoughts. “Her standards are exacting, Your Majesty, and she doesn’t compromise them for anyone. She’s rejected Exarch Guin’s son twice.” A ripple of soft laughter echoed around the table – Guin was a talented commander, but he was also a pompous ass. “She was awarded the Symbol of the Dragon for actions during yours and Prince Thexan’s raids in the Core Worlds,” he added once the laughter died down, “Though I don’t know the specific details of the actions which earned her that honor.”  
  
Arcann’s eyebrow ticked upwards with interest. The Symbol of the Dragon was Zakuul’s highest award for bravery in combat, given only for the most dangerous and heroic actions – so much so that every one he’d presented since taking the throne had been awarded posthumously. “I wasn’t aware of a living recipient of the Symbol of the Dragon,” he said.  
  
“The operation she was a part of was classified, Your Majesty,” Fiala explained quickly. “I believe the mere fact that she received the Symbol is itself restricted information. Your father presented the award privately while she was still in the hospital recovering from her wounds a few weeks before he died. May his immortal soul ever guide and protect us,” he added softly.  
  
“May his immortal soul ever guide and protect us,” every voice in the room echoed.  
  
Except for Arcann’s. _May his immortal soul burn in the fires of hell,_ his mind snarled – assuming he was truly dead. He wasn’t sure he believed Vaylin’s theory that their father’s soul had transferred itself to the Outlander at the moment of death, and was just biding his time until he could find a way to strike back at his traitorous children. But though it turned his blood cold to admit it, he’d felt _something_ during that surge of energy, and while it had conveniently knocked the Outlander unconscious it hadn’t done the same to him. _Then there was that day in the throne room when Vaylin stabbed at the air with her lightsaber, saying –_  
  
“Is there anything else you’d like to know, Your Majesty?” Fiala’s voice cut into his thoughts.  
  
_I must stop letting myself get distracted by a ghost._ “Send me her file. I will consider it.”  


  
________________________________________  


  
Mae parked her speeder in front of the large, domed building – that she usually gazed at with pride – and swore. “Why in Tyth’s name am I out here?” she muttered under her breath as she pulled off her golden helmet and punched in the security code. “By myself, in the middle of the day, with nothing scheduled here and a freighter’s worth of unread messages sitting in my inbox?!” The doors opened and she marched inside, coming to a halt in the middle of the mat that covered the floor of the spacious central chamber. Weapons and armor of every type were mounted on the walls around her, from the simplest shock stick to double-bladed Sith lightsabers and from the deceptively simple robes of a Jedi to Mandalorian armor made from beskar steel. She crossed her arms across her chest and sighed, tilting her head up to look through the crysoplast dome at the high branches of the trees surrounding the building and beyond them, the stars. _Relax, Mae,_ she told herself, taking a deep breath and trying to let the balanced energy of the swamp that surrounded the building for miles around sink into her senses. _Getting angry won’t get this over with any faster._  
  
Commander Oshi had given her the order to be here, at this time, earlier that morning, and though he said it had come straight from the top he honestly didn’t know what it was about. “If this is Exarch Guin pulling some stunt to try to pressure me into accepting his son’s application I am going to have _words_ with General Fiala,” she’d hissed after being told for the third time there was no way he could get her out of it. “I don’t know, Mae,” Oshi had sighed, throwing up his hands in frustration. ”The only thing they told me tell you was ‘Don’t be late’.”  
  
She was ten minutes early, but that didn’t make her feel any better about the whole charade. Dropping her helmet on the nearest bench, she ran through her task list for the day to decide if anything could wait until tomorrow. Intel updates on Republic Special Forces activity – no. Draft recommendations for increased patrols in the Palace of the Eternal Dragon – no. Applications for the Emperor’s Own – _well, maybe I can read those in my quarters later tonight._ She made another frustrated noise. _I almost wish this would take long enough to make me to miss the planning meeting for the debutante ball, but –_  
  
The whine of a shuttle’s engine and the whoosh of landing thrusters cut off any further grumbling. Mae stood and assumed an at-ease pose, glancing up through the dome at the shuttle as it descended slowly onto the landing pad next to where she’d parked her speeder. It was small but gleaming white and the latest model – _I knew it,_ she thought. _A rich and powerful jerk who wants to either browbeat or sweet-talk me into letting some friend or relative into the Emperor’s Own._ She’d gotten plenty of emails either pleading with her or threatening her on behalf of too many applicants to keep track of, and she screened all her work holocalls. A muted metallic thump signaled that the shuttle had landed, and moments later the engines cut out and she heard the creak of a ramp being lowered. _Alright,_ she braced herself, _who’s the asshole who thinks he’s more important than –  
  
Shit._  
  
She snapped to attention as an unmistakable man in unmistakable white armor strode through the doors. He slowed as he came into the central chamber, his gaze sweeping over the collected weapons and armor, then up to the dome, and then finally down to her. “Your Majesty,” she said, saluting as Emperor Arcann moved to stand in front of her. _Sweet merciful Scyva, don’t let me screw this up._  
  
He studied her for a few seconds. “You are Knight-Captain Mae Caducis.”  
  
“Yes, Your Majesty,” she replied, hoping the nervous quiver in her voice was just her imagination. _What in the name of all the gods is he doing here?!_ “I am honored to welcome you to this training facility.” _I am going to KILL Oshi or Fiala or whoever it is set this up!_  
  
Arcann paced around her, looking over the room again. “You designed this place?”  
  
“I’m not responsible for the architecture, Your Majesty, but I drew up the specifications and ensured they were met,” Mae said. Her heart rate seemed to be coming down from light-speed levels. “I also selected each piece of equipment.”  
  
“And this is where you test the applicants to the Emperor’s Own?” he asked, stepping over to run a finger along the length of a vibroblade.  
  
“Yes, Your Majesty.” _Why is he here? Alone?_ “There’s also a small group of us who are already in the Emperor’s Own who meet here a few times a week for advanced training. By invitation only,” she added, mind still racing. _What does he want with me?_  
  
He turned back towards her, his eye fixing her in its gaze. “You are in charge of these sessions?”  
  
“I am, Your Majesty,” she said, allowing herself to show a hint of a smile. They were the two times a week she could really relax, joking with friends and letting off steam with only the occasional broken bone to dampen the mood. “They’re mostly freeform sparring rather than structured lessons, but it keeps us sharp.”  
  
“Why did you build this out here in the swamp?” he asked, glancing back up at the dome. “Why not use your facilities in the Spire?”  
  
“Mostly so that if something goes wrong the only people we can injure are ourselves,” Mae replied. “When we’re in the mood we can also go outside and take on some of the local wildlife.” Arcann nodded approvingly at that. “And –” she faltered for a moment, searching for words – “Sometimes it’s nice just to get away from everything for a while,” she finished, suppressing a shrug.  
  
The look in Arcann’s eye seemed to soften for a moment before he turned away from her, then walked over to take hold of a large sword hanging on the wall nearby. “What is this?”  
  
“It’s a Cathar honor sword, Your Majesty,” Mae answered, happy to change topics to something she knew and loved. “Used for ritual dueling and religious ceremonies.”  
  
Arcann moved over to a large T-shaped metal and wooden device. “I’ve never seen a weapon like this before,” he said, reaching up to touch the marks in the wood that indicated the weapon was at least partially handmade.  
  
“That’s because they’re very jealously guarded by their owners,” Mae said as Arcann began to lift the weapon off of its cradle. “Careful, it’s heavy,” Mae said, instinctively reaching on her hands to catch the weapon if it fell.  
  
He glared at her briefly – it was heavy, but he was certainly not going to let some Captain see him struggle. “I will not drop it,” he growled.  
  
“My apologies, Your Majesty, I didn’t mean to suggest that you would,” Mae stammered quickly. _Emperor, Mae – EMPEROR._ “It’s just that it took me nearly a year to get my hands on this one. It’s a Wookiee bowcaster.” She watched as Arcann put the bowcaster back on its cradle a little too slowly and carefully – _but yeah, I told you so._ “Twice as powerful as a regular blaster rifle, and twice as accurate. Each one is handcrafted, using tools and methods no one outside their species completely understands,” she continued, knowing she was probably boring him but so long as she was talking about weapons she was on safe ground. “The weapons development folks from the Ministry of War wanted to take it apart to try to figure out how it works, but they couldn’t promise they’d be able to put it back together again. So now I’m hunting for a second one that they’ll be able to use for their experiments.”  
  
Arcann said nothing for a few pounding heartbeats after she finished, still contemplating the bowcaster. “I have read your file,” he finally rumbled, turning back to look at her.  
  
_Huh?_ “Did you have any questions, Your Majesty?” Mae asked carefully.  
  
“Your mother was Knight-General Lirana Caducis,” he said. “Killed two years ago in the fighting over Dromund Kaas.”  
  
“Yes.” Mae fought the urge to look away from Arcann to hide the grief that still lurked just beneath the surface of her thoughts two years later. She’d felt her mother’s death as her ship sacrificed itself to prevent Sith forces from breaking the blockade of Dromund Kaas – collapsing to her knees in the middle of a busy corridor in the Spire, a whispery caress of her mother’s thoughts in her mind suddenly vanishing into emptiness. “She knew her duty to the Throne,” Mae forced herself to say slowly, “And she carried it out to her last breath. I’m proud to have been her daughter.”  
  
“Adopted daughter.”  
  
Mae gritted her teeth. _Not this again._ “I did not have the privilege of being born on Zakuul, but the gods blessed me with the chance to become Zakuulan when my mother rescued me from pirates at the age of four,” she stated, her voice flat as she recited the words. “Zakuul saved my life, and in return I have pledged to defend it with my life.”  
  
“An honorable sentiment,” Arcann nodded, appearing satisfied with her sincerity. “One you nearly fulfilled, when your actions in combat were remarkable enough to earn you the Symbol of the Dragon.”  
  
“I was badly wounded, Your Majesty, but I assure you I have been fully recovered for over two years,” Mae replied, hoping she didn’t look as pale as she suddenly felt. Of all the things in her file he could’ve asked about, she was sure this was the last one either of them would want to discuss. “I’m afraid I can’t say anything more about that, as the operation was classified,” she added truthfully.  
  
“I think I have sufficient clearance,” Arcann drawled.  
  
_Great Izak above, get me out of this one._ “My apologies, Your Majesty, but unless you are giving me a direct order to tell you the story I do not have the authority myself to declassify it and speak of it. To anyone,” she shot back. _Mom always said – when in doubt, cite regulations._ “I’m sure Your Majesty understands how important it is for his Knights to follow proper security procedures at all times.”  
  
_She dares to refuse me on the grounds of duty and loyalty._ “I do,” he acknowledged grudgingly. _Interesting._ He paused, staring at her again for several long moments before straightening up and clasping his hands behind his back. “You have been recommended to me by Supreme-Knight General Fiala as an instructor.”  
  
“In what, Your Majesty?” Mae asked carefully, while her mind started to compile the list of things she was going to say to Fiala when she got back to the Spire.  
  
“Combat techniques,” he said, beginning to pace back and forth. “The demands of the Eternal Empire have kept me from training as often as I should.”  
  
Mae drew in a long breath. “I presume these lessons would be private?”  
  
“Of course.”  
  
“How often would you want to meet?”  
  
“Two or three times a week,” he shrugged.  
  
“What about your guards?” she asked. While he’d come into the building alone, Mae knew there should be at least half a dozen of his personal guards back inside the shuttle. “There won’t be room in here for them while we’re sparring.”  
  
Arcann waved a hand in the air dismissively. “They will stay in the shuttle, or patrol the perimeter outside.” He stopped pacing and stepped closer to her. “Do you think you’re up for the challenge?”  
  
For the first time Mae felt the prickly tingle in the back of her mind that betrayed another Force user’s thoughts reaching out to sense hers. “To be honest, Your Majesty, I doubt there’s anything I could teach you that you don’t already know, even if it’s been a while since you practiced,” she said, meeting his gaze head on. “But I can push your skills to their limit.”  
  
“You’re very confident about that,” he said, eyeing her closely again.  
  
“It’s born out of hard-won experience, Your Majesty,” she replied grimly.  
  
He contemplated her for another round of nervous heartbeats before seeming to nod to himself. “It is decided then,” he said firmly. “You accept, of course.”  
  
Mae swallowed hard, turning her head and pretending to survey the equipment around the room so Arcann wouldn’t see the hesitation in her eyes. The Knights were dedicated to the service of the Emperor. All her training taught her to believe the Emperor was a god – benevolent, omniscient, infallible. But that had been Emperor Valkorion, who had arrived on Zakuul a conquering hero, liberated its people from the old gods, and built the most prosperous society the galaxy had ever seen. They’d watched his children grow up in their midst, seen their tantrums and their mistakes. The Knights’ dedication to defending the Throne and the people of Zakuul had not waned, but they knew this Emperor was all too human.  
  
The safe thing to do was to say no, to stay out of range of the Emperor’s lethal volatility – but how would he react if she did refuse? Could that get her exiled or killed as surely as failing to satisfy his expectations would? _Damned if I do, damned if I don’t. I just hope I live long enough to kill Fiala._  
  
She was looking back up to give Arcann his answer when the sight of the personalized lockers used by the small group members gave her an idea. “I am honored by your offer and would be glad to accept it, but I have one condition,” she said. Arcann’s eye narrowed, but he stayed silent. “When we are here,” she continued, “You are not the Emperor and I am not a Knight-Captain. We will have no titles, or even names. We will be equals.”  
  
“I beg your pardon?” Arcann hissed.  
  
“It’s the only condition that someone invited to join our small group must accept,” Mae pressed on. “We need to be able to challenge and correct each other with no regard for the rank or position we hold outside these walls.” She took a deep breath and looked him squarely in his eye. “I will need to be able to tell you you’re doing something wrong, or doing it correctly but badly, without fear of being transferred to a colony world. Or worse.”  
  
Arcann rocked back on his heels. _Clever._ “You know what happened to my last trainer, then?”  
  
“I’ve heard rumors,” Mae demurred.  
  
She had a point, and he knew it – but he was the Emperor. “I will accept,” he began, savoring the look of shock she could keep off her face but not out of her eyes. “But I also have one condition.” He stretched out one arm towards a rack of blunt training blades hanging on the far wall, pulling one with the Force into his hand and flourishing it at Mae. “That you can best me.” _No one makes the rules anywhere in this galaxy but me._  
  
Mae suppressed a sigh – that hadn’t gone as planned. “First touch, or first killing blow?” she asked. _At least if I lose I might get out of this with my head and my job._  
  
“First touch would be too easy for me,” he drawled, lifting his blade into high guard position.  
  
All Mae’s thoughts of self-preservation vanished in a flash of indignant anger. “As you wish,” she growled, summoning a blade of her own. She was a Knight-Captain of Zakuul. No one was allowed to question her ability to fight any opponent and win – not even the Emperor she fought for. “We do allow the use of Force powers during sparring,” she added, taking up a defensive stance with her blade held low. “Just try not to damage the building.”  
  
He charged towards her, raising his blade high to strike at her, but she parried his blow easily – then pivoted quickly around him and smacked her blade against his upper leg. Arcann wheeled around, his eye flashing as she twirled her blade and retook her defensive stance. He charged at her again, holding his blade out to the side and shooting a bolt of Force lightening at her. She blocked the lightening with a Force shield and then turned her blade to meet his. They slashed and parried at each other until Arcann spun away from a strike Mae had aimed at his head. An angry glare met a defiant one as they caught their breath. Mae raised a hand and sent a blast of energy towards him that he deflected with a shield of his own, then charged at him. He turned his body and as he parried her attack he reached out with his cybernetic arm to seize the hand holding her blade, but she ducked suddenly and left him grasping air. Arcann raised his blade to bring it crashing down on her, but again she moved too quickly, rolling away from his blow while at the same time twisting around back towards him – and slicing her blade squarely across his torso.  
  
The memory burned through him – with a cry of rage he pushed her away with the Force. _No. No no no NO!_ Letting out another angry roar he seized one of the training dummies with the Force and smashed it against the floor. _I will not think about Thexan now. I will not…I will NOT!_ He raised his hand and smashed it again, and again, and again until pieces started flying off – then stopped suddenly at the sound of Mae’s startled yelp as she jumped out of the way of a leg. Arcann drove away the image of his brother’s startled face with a shuddering growl and focused on the Captain. She’d sprung back to her feet and held her blade held at the ready, eyes darting sharply between the wrecked dummy and him.  
  
His imagination conjured his father’s voice as clearly as if Valkorion was standing next to him. “She beat you,” he would say in a calm, almost amused voice. “The fearsome Eternal Emperor Arcann, conqueror of the galaxy, allowed himself to be blinded by arrogance and was bested by one of his own Knights.” The self-satisfied smirk his father always wore while explaining yet again why his son was weak and worthless floated just behind Arcann’s eyes. “You believe your own lies and fool yourself into thinking no one can defeat you – certainly not some young Knight-Captain – and thus ensure your inevitable failure.”  
  
“Do you yield?” Mae’s voice asked quietly.  
  
_She killed you as quickly as you killed Thexan,_ his father whispered. _And just as easily._  
  
Arcann raised his blade and pointed it at Mae. “You must draw blood,” he rasped angrily. _I will not be defeated. Not by this woman, and NOT by a memory!_  
  
Mae clenched her jaw grimly – _Emperor’s prerogative._ “First blood?”  
  
“Any blood,” he shot back.  
  
_How am I supposed to do that with a blunt training blade?_ The evil grin Mae could see reflected in his eye told her he was thinking the same thing. She closed her eyes for a moment, thinking back on the lessons her mother had started giving her the day she’d brought her home to Zakuul. _Find the weakness your opponent thinks is their strength,_ she’d said. “Just remember this was your choice,” Mae said, opening her eyes and raising her blade.  
  
With a low growl Arcann shot another stream of lightening at her, but it crackled harmlessly around the shield she’d raised by simply lifting her hand. He was just sensing how strong her shield was when she flicked her wrist and he suddenly found himself flying backwards halfway across the room. He rolled when he fell, jumping to his feet just in time to sidestep her thrust. His blade swung towards her neck but she pivoted smoothly and her blade appeared, blocking his. He reached out with the Force and started to choke her – she clenched her fist and a searing pain tore through his mind. Both staggered back a few steps, surveying each other before raising their blades and rejoining the battle.  
  
He lost track of how long they fought. He attacked, and she parried away to safety. Mae attacked, and he fought her off. He tried to choke her and crush her, and she either broke his concentration with her blade or used the Force to attack his mind. She threw bursts of energy at him, and he deflected them with a shield. There didn’t seem to be any way she could break through his defenses and draw blood, but neither would she stop trying. “You can’t win,” he finally snarled in frustration, his senses reeling from another one of her mental attacks while she knelt on the floor, coughing heavily after his last assault on her body.  
  
“Maybe not,” she said hoarsely. “But neither can you.”  
  
Arcann balled his cybernetic hand into a fist. “I will show you what I can do!” he shouted, then raised his hands and sent torrents of lethal, crackling lightening towards her. Mae dropped her blade and raised her hands out in front of her – and the most powerful Force shield Arcann had ever seen sprang into life. The waves of lightening broke harmlessly when they met the surface of the shield, a shimmering golden orb surrounding and swirling around her. With an angry grunt he poured all his power into his attack, determined to break her shield, to break her resistance and her defi –  
  
He didn’t see the training dummy soaring towards his mask until it was too late.  
  
There was a terrible crunching sound. His visual display flickered and went out of focus – the sound in his ear died – his nose exploded in pain. He fell to the floor and lay there as the world tilted around him. _No. I will not give in. I will not._  
  
“Do you yield?” Mae rasped.  
  
_How dare she?!_ Arcann sprang to his feet. _She will pay for –_ the movement, however, was too much for his disoriented senses, and he stumbled back down to his knees. He ran his human hand over his face, shaking his head and blinking his good eye – and when his fingers traced the edge of where the mask covered his nose, he felt something wet and sticky.  
  
“Any opponent worthy of the name will target your mask,” Mae’s scratchy voice said calmly. “If they can damage it you could lose half your range of vision and hearing, to say nothing of your ability to breathe. You need to not focus so much on your target that you lose track of everything else.”  
  
“I do not need to do anything,” he snarled at her as he stood up slowly. “I defeated the Jedi on Hoth and the Sith on Korriban! I killed Darth Atroxa!”  
  
“Then the fact that I just broke your nose should tell you what I think of their training standards,” she snapped, her voice rising a little bit. _I agreed to his challenge – I beat him – then he changed the rules on me and I beat him again!_ “And that was after I landed a hit that would’ve cut you in half if I’d been using my lightsaber.”  
  
Arcann clenched his fists and fixed her with a baleful glare. “I could dismiss you from the Emperor’s Own. Have you arrested for sedition, exiled to these swamps, or even executed,” he said in a low, dangerous voice.  
  
Mae barked out a laugh. “For what? Doing my job?” She didn’t know if it was the exhaustion, the frustration, or the anxiety she’d felt since he’d walked in the door – or all three conspiring together – but she was ready to be done with this, one way or another. “Feel free. I serve at the pleasure of the Emperor,” she said, repeating the mantra all Knights followed. “But then your technique will remain sloppy and your defense riddled with holes,” she hissed, “And someday when the Jedi or the Sith get their act together – and someday they will – as one of them is about to drive their lightsaber through your body the sound you’ll hear will be my ghost laughing.”  
  
His father laughed.  
  
Arcann froze. Was that real, or just a memory? He hadn’t felt anything like the presence Vaylin had described, but in his current state he wasn’t sure he would. There had been an echo to the sound, like it was coming from far away – _maybe it was just an impression in the Force that he left behind in my mind, a way to remind me of his contempt for me from beyond the grave._ That would be just like him, and just like what he’d done to –  
  
“Do you yield?” Mae asked again.  
  
He shook his head and forced his attentions back to Mae, studying her as best he could. The golden armor obscured any good view of the figure beneath, but she was tall and slender. Her hair was a dark auburn cut short to her chin, with bangs that were now clumped with sweat above an unusual pair of grey eyes glaring at him defiantly. Most importantly, he could sense her tremendous strength in the Force – possibly equal to his, though it felt different than his own or Vaylin’s – and her confidence in herself. That had been the real problem with his previous trainer. Arcann had smelled the weakness in him from the beginning, and when Arcann had lashed out in anger he’d cowered in fear. The Emperor could tolerate moments of defiance when they were born of strength and loyalty. Cowardice had only one reward.  
  
_Perhaps this could work,_ Arcann thought. His gaze dropped down at his fingers to confirm what had to be true – it was blood, and she had seen it. She beat you once – you changed the rules – and she beat you again, a voice in his head chimed. _Perhaps she has the strength to challenge me, to push me and make me truly ready in case there is a next time._ “I yield.” _In case Vaylin’s theory is right._ He looked back up to see her reaction, and was pleasantly surprised to see her raise her blade in salute and give him a respectful bow. “I see now why General Fiala recommended you over your more experienced colleagues,” he said, grudgingly returning her gesture.  
  
“They would’ve simpered and bowed and said ‘Yes, Your Majesty, you’re always right, Your Majesty, and how dare I think of not letting you win every time, Your Majesty,’” she snorted, hanging her blade back up on the wall. “Attitudes like that will get all of you killed.”  
  
_That is…an accurate description of most of my advisors._ “You truly believe that the Republic or the Empire can threaten us?” he asked, sending his blade soaring back to its place with a wave of his hand. _Yes, I think this can work._  
  
“Not today, no,” she said quickly, “But they didn’t become the great powers they are by giving up every time they take a hit. Someday they will figure it out, especially if they’re ever able to put their differences aside and work together against their common enemy.”  
  
“Zakuul,” he growled, crossing his arms over his chest.  
  
Mae nodded. “I think it’s the Republic that has the saying ‘The enemy of my enemy is my friend.’”  
  
“The Republic is divided and disorganized, its leadership still under the thrall of its former Chancellor,” Arcann said dismissively. “Imperial forces are scattered and leaderless. They may attack, but they will never succeed against the might of the Eternal Fleet.”  
  
She fixed him with another glare. “We must always assume that they will find a way to win. That’s the only way to be sure they won’t.”  
  
Arcann was about to fire off another retort but found himself silenced by the scolding gaze of her pale eyes. Even though they were narrowed and hard as durasteel they were still... “Very well,” he finally said, deciding he’d had enough of words for one afternoon. “Someone will contact you to set up a schedule.” He spun around on his heel and headed towards the doors.  
  
“One moment, Your Maj – one moment,” Mae’s voice called after him. “Your nose.”  
  
“My personal doctor will see to it,” he said tightly, not breaking his stride.  
  
“You don’t have to wait that long,” she countered. “I can take care of it now.”  
  
He came to a halt abruptly. “You are a healer as well as a warrior?” he asked, turning back around.  
  
“Yes,” she nodded. “It’s come in handy more than once,” she added quietly.  
  
“That is a rare combination of skills among the Knights,” he observed.  
  
Mae nodded again. “It is, but I’m told it’s not so unusual amongst the Jedi.” Arcann raised his eyebrow questioningly. “My mother always thought I was born in Republic space,” she explained. “Perhaps that’s what I would’ve become if the gods hadn’t brought me here.”  
  
Arcann waved her towards him. She moved to stand less than an arm’s length in front of him, then closed her eyes and raised her hand to hover over his face. He felt a pleasant warmth sink into him as she began her work. The pain ebbed away and he could feel the mask settling more comfortably on his face as the broken bone was set back into place. “There you are,” she said, lowering her hand and opening her eyes.  
  
“Thank you,” he said gruffly.  
  
“You’re welcome. Though it was only fair,” Mae shrugged, “Seeing as I’m the one who broke it.”  
  
“Then we are even – until next time,” he warned her, though there was no malice in his voice.  
  
“I won’t go any easier on you,” she replied with a smile.  
  
He grinned back at her underneath his mask, and was surprised at how genuine it felt. “I look forward to it.”  



	3. Chapter 2 - Clues and Caution

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the longer-than-usual delay in updating - it's been a busy several weeks, and I completely rearranged the sections in this and the next few chapters so I had to write most of this chapter from scratch. The good news is lots of the next several chapters are already mostly written, so hopefully I'll be able to get them out at a regular pace (excepting the time it will take me to attend and recover from DragonCon). Thanks for reading and please feel free to leave comments or questions below!

#### 

Chapter 2 – Clues and Caution

  
General Fiala glanced from the datapad that he held to the golden-armored man seated on the other side of his desk. “How many did you say again?” he breathed.  
  
“At least a billion,” Knight-Commander Oshi repeated with a sigh. “We’ll probably never have any kind of accurate count. Only the far side of Bothawui was minimally affected, but they’ll be suffering environmental damage for several years because of all the particulate matter blasted into the atmosphere.”  
  
“Did all our agents make it out in time?” Fiala asked, scrolling back through the report. He knew they’d evacuated all the Knights that were on the planet – while leaving the expendable Skytrooper droids behind to maintain appearances for the locals – but there’d been some more clandestine assets he’d hoped to extract.  
  
“Most – though with the Bothan Spynet obliterated they’re probably useless now,” Oshi muttered.  
Fiala set the datapad onto the desk and leaned back in his chair as well as his own armor allowed. “True, but the Republic and the Empire will have lost major parts of their intelligence networks, too. That should keep them from trying to cheat on their treaty obligations for a while.”  
  
“And I’m sure the Emperor will generously offer to reduce the amount of tribute the Republic owes us to account for this loss,” Oshi said mockingly. The other man shook his head. “Which means the rest of the galaxy will hate us for what we’ve done even more,” he added darkly.  
  
Fiala frowned at the younger man. “Be careful who you say that to.”  
  
“That’s why I’m saying it to you,” Oshi countered. “The Bothans deserved punishment – no one’s arguing that. But we should’ve done it in a way that didn’t leave us with more enemies than we had before.” He leaned in closer to Fiala. “It’s just like it was with the Scions,” he whispered.  
  
“Tyrus –“  
  
“I know the Emperor justified the order with their failure to predict the Outlander’s assassination of Emperor Valkorion, but did they _all_ deserve to die for that?” Oshi continued, his voice low but insistent. “It’s created doubt amongst the people – even some of our own.”  
  
Fiala locked eyes with Oshi. “We serve at the pleasure of the Emperor,” he intoned, the warning in his voice clear. “We follow his orders and are obedient to his will.” _Do not force me to report you for disloyalty._  
  
“We are the sword of justice and righteous vengeance,” Oshi replied with a reluctant nod, “We are the shield of Zakuul.”  
  
The General leaned back in his chair and let out a long breath. _One more crisis averted, at least for now._ He knew Oshi was right – slowly but surely, trouble was brewing. Amongst the people and amongst the Knights, Arcann’s brutality and Vaylin’s cruelty were starting to raise questions. The total defeat and humiliation of the Republic and the Empire were punishment enough for the murder of Valkorion – why the need to maintain control? Why kill so many, now including billions of Bothans, for the crimes of one person? And if Arcann felt the need for more vengeance, why didn’t he just pull the Outlander out of carbonite and take it out on her? Fiala glanced down at his datapad, which contained steadily growing lists of Zakuulans condemned to exile for sedition or execution for treason. All he could do was try to protect his people – his Knights – for as long as he could from whatever storm was coming. “Speaking of the Emperor,” he finally sighed, “Has Mae said anything about how their sessions are going? It’s been nearly two months and I haven’t heard a peep.”  
  
“‘Good’ is all she says,” Oshi said quietly.  
  
“‘Good’ as in ‘I’m afraid to say anything else’ or as in ‘It’s actually okay’?” Fiala asked, eyebrows raised. When he’d heard Arcann returned from that first meeting with his mask damaged, Fiala had immediately commed Mae in a blind panic. It had been many years since he and Lirana Caducis spent a few months as lovers, but he’d always kept a soft spot in his heart for the little girl who tore around her mother’s apartment waving a toy lightsaber and shouting ‘For the honor of the Emperor!’ _Merciful Scyva, don’t let me have gotten her killed,_ he’d prayed as the comm tried to connect. He found himself blinking back tears when she answered, then blinking in disbelief when she told him that it had gone just fine and they’d be starting lessons soon. “What happened?” he’d asked with a relieved shudder.  
  
“I…probably shouldn’t talk about it,” she’d replied slowly, her voice a little rougher than usual. “I do like breathing.”  
  
He’d laughed, running a hand that was still shaking over his face. “We all like you better breathing, so no, you shouldn’t.”  
  
“Understood and acknowledged,” she’d chuckled on the other end of the comm. “If there’s nothing else, sir, I’ve got some, ah, cleaning up to do here.” After the call ended, Fiala had poured himself a very large glass from the bottle of whisky he kept hidden in his desk and drank it all in one shot.  
  
Oshi’s exaggerated shrug brought him back to the present. “The latter, I think,” he said. “She certainly doesn’t seem as nervous when she goes to meet him now as she did in the beginning.” He raised his eyebrows at Fiala. “What about the Emperor? Has he said anything to you?”  
  
Fiala shook his head. “No. But I’ll say this – when it’s time for him to leave, even if we’re in the middle of something, he is out the door and on the shuttle.” He sat back up to move closer to the other man. “Keep a close eye on her, though,” he added softly. “We both know how quickly –“  
  
The console on Fiala’s desk suddenly let out a singular, discordant chime – programmed to signal the approach of only one person. Fiala took hold of the datapad he’d been perusing earlier, and the two men only had time to exchange worried looks before the doors to his office slid open.  
  
“I’ve been reading the report about Arron Prime,” Princess – and High Justice – Vaylin announced, glancing from one man to another as they jumped to their feet and bowed. “I don’t like it.”  
  
“I’m sorry to hear that, High Justice,” Fiala replied quickly. “However, I hope you will be pleased to hear that we’ve received some additional information since that report was issued. Internal Security is preparing an update as we speak.”  
  
Oshi nodded vigorously. “Yes, yes we are.” This was the first time he’d seen the High Justice up close, and those fire-ringed golden eyes were far more unsettling in person than on the holonews. “We recently located the crash site of the shuttle used to escape from our base, and based on the evidence recovered we believe the incident was the work of the same two persons responsible for the trouble on Altair 3.” He pulled out his own datapad and gave it a few quick taps. “A deserter from our own naval forces – former Captain Koth Vortena – and the former Sith Minister of Intelligence, Lord Lana Beniko.”  
  
“Beniko,” Vaylin repeated slowly. Her grey hooded cape and dress, reminiscent of the robes worn by the now-exterminated Scions, swayed around her. “She worked with the Outlander, didn’t she?”  
  
“During the Revanite crisis, yes, High Justice.” Fiala dropped his eyes onto his datapad, pulling up file after file hoping he could anticipate where Vaylin’s questions would go next. “And briefly again on Ziost. However, we don’t believe they had any contact after that.” He hadn’t survived the last few years in the Spire without learning that when the High Justice was annoyed the best way to survive was to keep her thoughts moving until they focused on something – anything – other than you.  
  
“That’s where the Outlander met her lover, too. The Jedi Grandmaster’s not-so-secret son,” Vaylin chuckled scornfully. “Where’s he right now?”  
  
Fiala didn’t need to look at his datapad to answer that question. “Agent Theron Shan dropped off the grid shortly after the Republic surrendered to our forces two years ago. Both Internal Security and the Ministry of Intelligence have agents looking for him, High Justice, but he’s not a man who’s easily found,” he finished, drawing in a long breath and bracing himself against the desk.  
  
A few seconds ticked by before Fiala and Oshi realized Vaylin wasn’t going to explode with anger – at least, not yet. Instead, she tilted her head to one side and tapped her fingers against her arms until both men slowly exhaled. “Could they be working together, like they did before?” she finally asked. “The spy and the Sith.”  
  
“It’s certainly possible, High Justice,” Fiala nodded, risking a knowing glance at Oshi while Vaylin gazed pensively at the walls. “That could be why Lord Beniko has taken in Captain Vortena – they need a native Zakuulan to tell them all the things they don’t know about us.”  
  
“The only question would be what their objective is,” Oshi chimed in.  
  
“Revenge, of course,” Vaylin drawled, sitting down in the chair Oshi had vacated. “For what my brother did to her Empire, his Republic, and his precious Outlander.” She used one leg to slowly rock the chair back and forth for a few moments, studying her fingernails before snapping her eyes back up to the dark-skinned man across from her. “What about her family? Do we know what they’re up to?”  
  
Fiala started scrolling through the file he’d opened on his datapad. “As I’m sure you know, High Justice, her parents are deceased. Killed in action back when Sith forces sacked Coruscant.” He wasn’t really sure how much Vaylin remembered from the various briefings and reports on the Outlander’s family and allies – the ones she’d attended or marked as read, at least. “There’s a widowed uncle running a medical clinic in the Coruscanti slums, but our surveillance hasn’t noted any suspicious activity.”  
  
“What happened to the aunt – anything they can blame us for?” Vaylin asked, continuing to swivel her chair from side to side.  
  
“She died in a spaceliner accident many years ago, as I recall,” Fiala said. “There is one cousin – Careva Davu, a smuggler and former Republic privateer who spends most of her time at an old space station she owns called ‘Port Nowhere’. We have agents monitoring activities there, but so far it’s just the usual petty crimes you’d expect from that sort.” He gestured for Oshi to come around to his side of the desk as his datapad loaded the next file. “The Outlander’s older sister, Colonel Taseva Davu, is still in the Republic Special Forces, Havoc Squad.”  
  
“Havoc Squad,” Vaylin spat, springing to her feet and starting to pace around the room. “They took out my flagship.” It had been one of the few losses they’d suffered against the Republic during the war, during the largest and last attempt to break their blockade of Coruscant. Though the Republic Fleet’s plan to isolate one wedge of the Eternal Fleet and destroy enough ships to let convoys get through was easily defeated, Havoc Squad managed to board the command ship – which had been Thexan’s flaghship before his death – and rig its hyperdrive to explode, then escape without suffering a single casualty.  
  
Oshi cleared his throat with a delicate cough. “They are formidable, High Justice, but at this time they’re also restricted to certain areas of space and certain types of missions by the terms of our treaty with the Republic,” he said. He remembered Vaylin’s anger at the loss – and more importantly, at the embarrassment of being seen to lose. The Fleet Staff had gotten the worst of it, but everyone in the Spire spent the next few weeks checking around corners to make sure she wasn’t nearby. “As their commanding officer, that means this sister is easy to track,” he continued, carefully watching the High Justice stalk from left to right and back again. “If she was up to something we’d hear about it.”  
  
“It’s the younger sister that worries me,” Fiala rumbled, his eyes following Vaylin just as warily. “The bounty hunter who married into a Mandalorian clan. There have only been a few confirmed sightings of her since the Outlander’s capture, and all of them were on Nar Shaddaa. From there she could go anywhere in the galaxy.” _Without our knowing about it,_ he thought grimly. Since Nar Shaddaa was already overrun by criminal gangs, pirates, and both Republic and Imperial agents, building a network of reliable informants there had been more challenging than anticipated – and the agents they sent there kept vanishing mysteriously.  
  
The High Justice paused, tilting her head to one side. “After all the damage we inflicted on them I thought the Mandalorians had retreated to their Heartworlds.”  
  
“Most, but not all,” Fiala said. “With her connections to the Empire through her work, and to the Republic through her family, this, ah, Visareva –“ he glanced back down at his datapad – “We’re not sure if she’s using her maiden name of Davu or her husband’s clan name, Cadera – could be acting as a go-between for factions on either side still thinking of rebellion. Or she could be plotting to do what she’s best at – break into a highly secure facility, then locate and kill her target,” he finished darkly, in no doubt as to who that target would be.  
  
Vaylin crossed her arms across her chest. “And the Outlander’s allies? Her crew?” she asked slowly.  
  
“Our latest information is that Jedi Knight Kira Carsen is still in hiding on Tython, with an enclave of surviving Jedi,” Oshi said. “We haven’t located the enclave yet – it is very much _their_ planet, so they have all the advantage,” he added hastily, “But they can’t really do anything with a Star Fortress above their heads.”  
  
“The Ministry of Intelligence sends an agent or two they don’t need any more down there periodically to search, just to keep the Jedi honest,” Fiala said with a tight grin. “None have returned.”  
  
“Why would the Ministry do that?” Vaylin asked.  
  
Fiala shrugged nonchalantly, his smile widening. “Cleans up loose ends.”  
  
“I’ll bear that in mind,” Vaylin said cooly. Fiala’s grin faded. “And the rest?”  
  
Oshi glanced back down at his datapad. “Sergeant Rusk went back into Republic service and is currently serving with the Dead Man’s Legion on Nar Shaddaa. Dr. Kimble provided medical services in several different locations during the war, but hasn’t been seen much since.”  
  
“We believe he had some romantic entanglement with the Outlander,” Fiala followed on quickly, “But became disillusioned with her when she took up with Agent Shan.” The anger that had been threatening to build in Vaylin’s eyes subsided into amusement. “Our assessment is that he’s not a threat.”  
  
“Then there’s the Sith who betrayed Emperor Valkorion,” Oshi hissed softly. “He vanished almost immediately after the Ourlander murdered the Emperor – probably figured she’d done him a favor and he could retire to some quiet corner of Sith space.”  
  
“And we don’t know where he is now, either, do we?” Vaylin asked in a singsong voice.  
  
Fiala cleared his throat cautiously. “He has had three centuries to learn all the ins and outs of that part of the galaxy, High Justice,” he said evenly. “Like with Agent Shan, it will take time to find him.” He decided not to mention the little droid the Outlander had also had, in the hopes that Vaylin had forgotten about it. No one had seen it since the war, so they’d assumed it was destroyed in the fighting and abandoned any search. It was, after all, just a droid.  
  
Vaylin fell silent, slowly shifting her gaze from one man to the other. There had been too much ‘We don’t know’ and ‘We can’t find them’ in what they’d told her. _We are Zakuul,_ she fumed. _We have the Eternal Fleet controlling the galaxy and thousands of agents seeded on hundreds of worlds – yet ‘We can’t find them’!_ She started pacing again – she thought better when she was moving.  
  
It was tempting, very tempting, to kill one or both of them. She so loved seeing the fear in someone’s eyes when they realized their incompetence finally had a price. The Fleet Staff she’d decimated after her flagship was destroyed had begged particularly hard for their lives. _But no,_ she sighed. _Brother dear wouldn’t like that._ He’d been angry with her after the incident with the Staff, and told her in no uncertain terms that while she could do what she liked with her personal guards and the lower-ranking Knights she would not harm senior ministers and staff. At least, not without getting his permission first. She came to a stop and looked at the older one – _Fiana? Fiola?_ – tall and dark-skinned, with a shaved head and dark eyes. Arcann would be mad if she killed him. And if he was dead then she might have to do some of the boring paperwork he took care of for her. _So you get to live._ “I want them found,” she growled softly, turning to the younger Knight she hadn’t met before, her eyes sliding over his blond hair and green eyes with interest. _For now._ “All of them. Kill Beniko and Vortena. And if any of the others so much as sneeze in our direction, I want them dropped in carbonite and slapped up against the wall right next to the Outlander.”  
  
“As you command, High Justice,” Fiala said, bowing his head. Vaylin looked over each of them one more time before turning on her heel and stomping out of the office as quickly as she’d come in.  
  
Both men stayed still after the doors swished closed behind her, counting to ten in their heads just in case she decided to turn around – then slowly sank into their chairs with heavy but relieved sighs. Fiala reached down, and a few seconds later a large bottle of whisky from Treanur, the city on the southern continent Fiala hailed from, appeared. A decently-sized glass tumbler was soon placed alongside. “You know that’s against regs?” Oshi asked half-heartedly – to which Fiala replied by producing a second tumbler and arching his eyebrow in question. Oshi let out a weary laugh and nodded.  
  
“My husband keeps telling me I should retire,” Fiala muttered, pouring generous helpings into each tumbler.  
  
Oshi reached out and grasped the glass closest to him, then took a small sip. “Maybe you should listen to him,” he said, letting the pleasant burn of the alcohol fade so he could savor that strange, smoky aftertaste Treanuran whiskys all seemed to have.  
  
“One more year and I qualify for housing in Starfall Tower,” Fiala sighed, taking a much larger gulp from his glass.  
  
“Very nice,” Oshi nodded. “But is it worth it?”  
  
Fiala tipped the glass back and swallowed its remaining contents, then let out a long, deep breath. “It’s just one more year.”  


  
________________________________________  


  
“Faster.”  
  
“I’m moving as fast as I can.”  
  
“You’ve got to move faster.”  
  
Arcann glared down at the training blade in his hand, which had just swung at Mae and hit nothing but air. “Your feet are smaller than mine. You can move them more quickly.” For the tenth time in a row.  
  
“Your arms are longer than mine,” she countered with a smile, flourishing her own blade. “I have to move farther to avoid getting hit.” Arcann’s only reply was a grunt, but his visible eye narrowed slightly. “Let’s take a break,” Mae said at the sight of that telltale movement. Staying ahead of Arcann’s frustrations – and the anger it could awaken – was just as important as staying ahead of his blade. Arcann thumped down onto a nearby bench and tossed his blade aside with another low grunt. _A longer break than usual,_ Mae decided, walking over to the small refreshments area in the corner. “How much do those boots weigh?” she asked lightly.  
  
“Very little,” Arcann growled. “They’re made from duravlex.” He started running through some relaxation exercises to relieve the aches in his legs and arms. “The boots aren’t the problem.”  
  
“Then we’ll go back to basics until we find it and fix it,” she replied, pulling some small bottles out of a fridge. “I’ll set up some agility drills for next time.” That drew a clearly displeased noise from Arcann. “Not a fan?” she asked, walking back over towards him. “Just be glad I’m not making you do knee-ups.”  
  
The eye narrowed again. “You wouldn’t dare.”  
  
“Oh yes I would,” she shot back with a grin, holding out a bottle to him. “I’d do them right along with you – fair is fair – but if I think it’ll help you get better there isn’t anything I won’t ask you to do.”  
  
Arcann took the bottle. It wasn’t possible for him to eat with the mask on, but he’d had the technicians who maintained it install a port with a discreet, extendable straw that he could use to drink. “I was never very fast or agile,” he grumbled. “Do not waste my time trying to make me into something I’m not.”  
  
“No one’s ever going to mistake you for an Echani, that’s for certain,” Mae said, sitting down on the bench across from his and starting in on her own bottle, “But you can be better than you are. You’re already better than you were when we started, and it’s only been two months. Be patient,” she added encouragingly. “It’ll come.”  
  
He tried to glare at her but he wasn’t truly angry, just frustrated by his own clumsiness and the fact that he couldn’t hide it from her. Even though he’d never been the most nimble fighter he’d still been strong enough to defeat anyone, but three years of neglecting his training had taken their toll. Now he sometimes left his lessons with Mae feeling like a nerf that had been lumbering around beside a nexu. But, he wasn’t as sore afterwards or the next day as he’d been in the beginning, though, a sure sign that he was working his way back into fighting shape. And he was getting in more hits, even if not as many were in the kill zones for his liking. When they’d began he’d wondered if their arrangement could hold for more than a few weeks, but he found himself wanting to keep at it, wanting to come back day after day until he got it right.  
  
The first time he’d really felt it was during their fourth session. He’d landed more than a few decent hits since their first lesson, but disarming her or striking what would be a fatal blow still eluded him as she spun or rolled away a moment before his blade could reach her. Finally that day the footwork she’d taught him – and that he’d been practicing every night in his rooms – came instinctively enough for him to move the single second faster that he needed to hook his blade around hers and pull it from her grasp. He swung his blade back down towards her, but she sidestepped the blow – then reached out and pulled a training polesaber into her hands, bringing it up just in time it block his next attack.  
  
“You didn’t say we were allowed to summon a second weapon,” he’d growled angrily as his momentary triumph was ripped away.  
  
“Do you expect your enemies to send you a memo before battle letting you know what weapons and tactics they’ll use?” she’d laughed, backing away and straightening up out of her defensive stance. “They’ll use any power they have and any weapon they can get their hands on – summoned from the grasp of a dead comrade, perhaps – until you kill them or they kill you.” She sent the polesaber sailing back to its place on the wall and called her single blade back to her hand. “And I’ll do anything I can to make sure it’s the former.” Mae dropped back down into a ready stance. “That _was_ excellent footwork, though,” she’d added with a broad smile. “Good flow, very light. Let’s do it again.”  
  
_Was that a…compliment?_ He did badly the next repetition, distracted by Mae’s words and her smile. _Focus!_ he growled at himself, just as he heard her shout the same thing. _It was just a few throwaway words,_ he told himself as another solid whack from her blade shook him out of his reverie. _It means nothing._  
  
Later, however, in the silence of his shuttle ride back to the Spire, he found himself replaying that moment in his mind over and over again. He’d been exposed to flattery and false praise all his life, and he had long since grown deaf to both the words and those who spoke them. Sincerity of any sort was rare. Vaylin tried, but there was a hollow edge to her words that always left him unsettled. He’d never doubted that Thexan’s affection and admiration for him had been true. His mother’s had too, though any value they’d had vanished when she left.  
  
There was no need to judge his father’s praise, as he had given none.  
  
Mae wasn’t lying to keep him happy – she’d let him beat her more often if that was her goal. She wasn’t trying to get a promotion or some other favor from him – her record spoke for itself, and if there was something else she wanted from life other than just to be a Knight he’d yet to sense it. Her words had been simple. _Honest._  
  
Things between them had relaxed after that. They’d barely talked during breaks before, even then never venturing beyond polite yet stiff comments on safe topics like the weather or the move they were practicing. Now he began to ask her about her training and her work as a Knight. She replied carefully but proudly, and he found himself responding to her enthusiasm with a story or two from his own childhood training. He’d never really felt like he’d had anything in common with anyone except his brother and sister before – now he could use the nicknames and acronyms he’d picked up from the Knights assigned to train them and see a small smile of recognition in return. “What’s the PT standard at the Academy for knee-ups?” he asked, knowing that talking about her time there would buy him at least a few more minutes rest. “One hundred in two minutes?”  
  
“Don’t remind me,” Mae groaned.  
  
Arcann felt himself start to grin beneath his mask. “Not a fan?”  
  
“Let’s just say I passed the standard two days before graduation and leave it at that,” she said flatly.  
  
“Something you’re bad at?” he mused.  
  
She shot him what was almost a dirty look. “I’m bad at lots of things,” she muttered. “Thankfully most of them aren’t related to combat skills or using the Force.”  
  
“Such as?” he asked, finding he was enjoying watching her on the back foot for a change.  
  
Mae let out an exasperated sigh. “I don’t have an artistic bone in my body. Can’t sing, can’t draw. My mother bought me a keyboard for Winter Solstice when I was seven. She gave it away two weeks later after our neighbors complained about the terrible noises coming from our apartment,” she said, chuckling ruefully at the memory of how red her mother’s face had been when the landlord came to talk to her. She saw Arcann lean back into a more relaxed pose, his eyebrow arching upwards with amusement. _Well, if tales of my creative incompetence help him calm down, then any embarrassment will be worth it._ “If you see me at something official don’t be surprised if I’m _not_ belting out the Eternal Anthem at the top of my lungs,” she added with a laugh. “It’s an act of mercy, trust me.”  
  
The eyebrow arched higher, amusement shifting into curiosity. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you at one of the reviews or galas,” he said slowly, his eye looking her up and down.  
  
“I have different duties at different kinds of events, but I’m usually there somewhere,” Mae replied, willing her voice to stay light and calm. Some of the tasks she’d performed – the things she’d seen – were best left undiscussed with the man those duties revolved around. “It can be hard to pick out one golden helmet from among the dozens you see everywhere. Without nameplates, or rank or unit insignia, even we sometimes have trouble recognizing someone we’ve known for years until we hear their voice.” They had their own little tricks – personalized gestures, usually – and once you were close enough to see the design of a Knight’s lightsaber you could figure out which armored figure was which, but that was information they kept to themselves.  
  
Arcann nodded, knowing that had been another one of his father’s schemes. Keeping even their top leaders relatively anonymous had focused the Knights’ loyalties solely on their Emperor. Later, not knowing the names and faces of the Knights in their personal guard – and rotating them out before they could become known – had been another way Valkorion discouraged his children from becoming attached to anyone other than him. “Of course,” he mumbled. That had been one policy he’d changed immediately upon taking the Throne. He’d told his ministers it was so his guard could build up their experience and knowledge rather than constantly wasting time training new members, but really it had just been for the dark delight of thwarting his father’s plans.  
  
“Are you ready to get back at it?” Mae’s voice said.  
  
He shook away his memories. “Already?” Half of his drink was still left – some kind of scientific concoction the Knights’ used to recover their strength quickly after training or combat. It worked, he could tell, and as a bonus it was fairly tasty.  
  
“Neither time nor Sith Lords wait for any man,” Mae intoned. “Can’t say the same about the Jedi, but you get the point.”  
  
He sucked down as much of the remaining liquid as he could without making too much noise. “Don’t the Sith believe it’s the duty of a student to rebel against his teacher?” he muttered, hoping to distract her for a few minutes more.  
  
“A stupid philosophy if I’ve ever heard one,” she snorted. “Is it any wonder they’ve been spinning their wheels against the Republic for millennia when their whole society is based on killing off their most experienced leaders?” Arcann nodded his agreement but remained focused on finishing his drink. “Besides,” Mae added quietly, “I thought we had agreed not to use _any_ titles.”  
  
Some of his memories of their first meeting were a little hazy – he had her Force attacks on his mind to thank for that – but their agreement in the aftermath to treat each other as equals within this space was clear, and so far holding strong. “We did,” he acknowledged, taking the last sip of his drink and standing up. “Whenever you are ready.”  
  
“Alright,” she breathed, still equally relieved each time the test was passed. “Since you apparently have Sith on the brain, let’s work on defending against their lightsaber forms.” They picked up their training blades and assumed their favored stances. “As you probably know, most Sith who use a single lightsaber use a version of what they call the ‘Juyo’ form, a very aggressive style that leaves them open to well-timed counterattacks – if you manage to deflect the initial attack. When the attack comes from the high guard position, the most common strike is down and across the body…”  


  
________________________________________

  
_BRAAAP – BRAAAP – BRAAAP – BRAAAP_  
  
Mae cracked one eye open and looked over at the flashing, beeping, and vibrating holocomm on her nightstand. It had three ring settings – ‘Just chatting’, ‘Answer or call back’, and ‘Answer right _bleeping_ now’. _Why is it I only ever hear the last one between midnight and 0600?_ She slapped a hand at the small device. “Answer, audio only,” she muttered sleepily.  
  
“Captain Caducis,” rang out the voice of Knight-Lieutenant Sitaru, her subordinate in charge of the Investigations Branch. “Sorry to disturb you at this hour, but there’s been an incident down in the Old World,” he rushed on. “I’m headed down there now to take a look and…well, I think you should be there, too.”  
  
“Lieutenant,” Mae yawned, stretching her arms above her head, “You’re more than capable of deciding which incidents we need to get involved in and which ones we don’t.” Internal Security was supposed to take over any investigation involving a Knight as either a victim or the accused, but in practice they often let the Knights in the Enforcement Division do their jobs and just monitored their progress. “I’m sure you can handle this on your own.” They’d eventually weigh in with recommendations on discipline for the Knights involved if the evidence justified it, but staying in their lane while letting Enforcement stay in theirs avoided unnecessary tension.  
  
“I appreciate your confidence, Captain, but…” Sitaru sighed heavily. “It’s bad, ma’am. The Lieutenant in charge of the scene called us in, and if what she says is true I think you’ll want to see it for yourself.”  
  
_That’s unusual._ “Alright,” she nodded in the darkness, “Send me the coordinates and I’ll be there as fast as I can.” She let out another yawn, but threw back the sheets and shuffled towards the refresher. _Enforcement almost never calls us – we call them._ Mae turned on the water and leaned down, letting the warm spray loosen up the shoulder and back muscles that ached a little from the training session with Arcann that afternoon. For a moment, she wondered if he was feeling the same way, but quickly shoved that thought aside. _Focus, Mae,_ she told herself. _Time to go to work._  
  
Twenty minutes later she was climbing out of her airspeeder in the heart of the Old World, the first great city built by Emperor Valkorion that later served as the foundation and lower levels of the Spire. Mae tried to remember the last time she’d been down this way – she didn’t care much for the ‘entertainment’ on offer in the brothels and arenas, and while the Knights still technically had jurisdiction over these neighborhoods the vigilantes from the Heralds of Zildrog were steadily expanding their influence from their headquarters further below in Breaktown. A group of religious fanatics who believed the return of the ancient serpent god Zildrog was imminent would normally be little more than a nuisance for the Knights, but many of the Heralds were Force-sensitives who’d either dropped out or been kicked out of the Knights. Which made the Enforcement Division’s presence dangerous enough, and the appearance of the Emperor’s Own an outright provocation. Beneath her helmet, she frowned down at the gold armor that gleamed brightly even in the dimly lit street. _Must move quickly – the faster we’re out of here the better._  
  
She followed the flashing lights from Enforcement’s official airspeeders into a narrow, dead-end alley off of the main street. Lieutenant Sitaru stood off to one side, talking quietly with a female Knight in the white-and-silver armor of the Enforcement Division. Several other Knights from Enforcement were moving around, tapping on datapads or taking pictures and vids of –  
  
Mae’s hands clenched into fists at the sight of the six bodies splayed out on the ground at the back of the alley, the clothes they’d worn for a night out pockmarked with blaster burns and spattered with blood. Six bodies with faces she knew. _Blood of Tyth…_ She marched over to Sitaru and his companion. “Captain Caducis, Deputy Commander, Internal Security Division,” she announced. “Who’s the officer in charge?”  
  
“I am,” the other Knight said, saluting. “Lieutenant Tirall, Enforcement Division, Investigations and Apprehensions Branch.”  
  
Mae returned the gesture. “What do you have so far?”  
  
“As you can see, we have six deceased,” Tirall began gently. Her voice was more mature than Mae was expecting from someone with her relatively junior-level rank and position, but even through the filter of her helmet it was clear and strong. “Their passcards were taken, but based on fingerprints and facial recognition we’ve identified them as six members of the Emperor’s Own.”  
  
“They took the passcards?” Mae asked, feeling her eyebrows lift with curiousity underneath her helmet.  
  
“Yes,” Tirall replied with the same mild astonishment. “I think the perpetrators must’ve thought that would delay our investigation more than the fifteen minutes it took to learn their names.”  
  
Mae let out a long breath, then turned to face the bodies. “Manner of death?”  
  
“Hard to say until they’ve been fully examined,” Tirall said, kneeling down beside them. “All of them have what look like fatal blaster wounds, but I think some of those shots happened after the victim was already dead.” She waved her hand at one body, then another. “They bleed differently, as I’m sure you know.” Mae bent down for a closer look, nodding. “I also wondered why this one had such a concentration of shots in an unusual place,” Tirall continued, shuffling over to a third body.  
  
Leaning further in, Mae followed the direction of the other woman’s finger as she pointed at a cluster of blaster marks just above the dead man’s knee. In the middle of the blackened flesh she could just barely see a thin gash of cauterized burns. “That’s a lightsaber wound,” she murmured, closing her eyes to concentrate against the sudden chill running through her. A Knight hadn’t killed another Knight by anything other than accident in over a century. Even drunken arguments over the refereeing of the Stickball League final rarely escalated beyond wildly off-target punches. “The Heralds?” she asked quietly.  
  
“Actually, they’re the ones called us to report the crime,” Tirall said in an equally low voice, “And were eager to disclaim any involvement.”  
  
“They know we could crush them if the Emperor chose to give the order,” Mae said as she slowly straightened up. “Being blamed for the death of six of his Emperor’s Own wouldn’t look good in his eyes, so I can see why they’d want to play nice this time. The question is,” she sighed, crossing her arms across her chest as Tirall stood back up beside her, “Do we believe them?”  
  
“Yes, for once,” Tirall said after a pause. “We may have a limited presence down here, but we still have our eyes and ears.” She glanced meaningfully at one of the small security cams mounted on the buildings surrounding them. “The Heralds don’t spend much time around this particular sector of the Old World. Yet,” she added darkly. “Unfortunately, they said they didn’t know anything about how this happened, only that it did.” Mae snorted – Tirall held up a hand. “No need to ask if I believe that,” the older Knight said calmly. “I don’t. But getting them to tell us what they know could be…difficult.”  
  
“Are we sure this isn’t just be a robbery gone bad?” Sitaru asked.  
  
Mae arched her eyebrows skeptically. “How many street thieves have lightsabers?” Sitaru sighed and glanced back over at the bodies. “There were six of them,” Mae continued, holding up one finger. “Thieves usually don’t like taking on groups that big.” A second finger came up. “They were civilians in appearance, but young and strong – what thieves would choose them as their targets?” A third finger joined the first two. “There would’ve been dozens of others on these streets whose clothes were more fashionable and expensive, or who were older or weaker.” Mae stabbed her hand in the air as she raised a fourth finger. “And while the thieves down here will take jewelry, weapons – I’ve even seen where they dug out implants – they always leave passcards. Trying to reuse them leaves a trail of evidence behind, which also means it’s the one thing they can’t resell.” She looked over to see Tirall nodding slowly in agreement. “That’s why you called us, and you were right,” Mae told the older woman. “We’ll take it. Wake up the rest of your team, Lieutenant,” she said, turning to Sitaru. “Find out where these six lived and search their quarters thoroughly. When you’re done there start talking to their colleagues, their friends. If they have any idea why these six came down here tonight we need to know.” Sitaru saluted and reached for his comm, but Mae held out a hand to stop him. “How many of these security cams still work?” she asked Tirall.  
  
“Some,” she replied, glancing up and around as if she knew exactly which were which.  
  
“Then we’ll just have to pray they’re the right ones,” Mae muttered before shifting her gaze back to Sitaru. “Have Sergeant Vaneb pull all the footage he can find. I want to track their movements back from this spot to wherever they were before, all the way back to when they got off the tram.” He saluted again, and this time Mae let him pull out his comm and start punching at its buttons. “I don’t think we need to worry about interviewing witnesses,” she added with a sigh at the deserted streets around them.  
  
“Not tonight,” Tirall agreed. “But a Priority Aurek alert with an appropriate reward might loosen some tongues.”  
  
“Good idea,” Mae nodded sharply. “Go ahead and put it out, Lieutenant – it’ll scare people less coming from your division than from ours. I’ll authorize whatever amount you think will get results.” She dropped her eyes to the bodies on the ground again. “What do you really think, Lieutenant?” she asked softly. “Panic, or plan?”  
  
“Plan,” Tirall said after her own momentary contemplation of the scene. “This was an ambush. But for what purpose?”  
  
“That is the million credit question,” Mae said, continuing to stare down at the dead.  
  
Tirall cleared her throat delicately. “Did you know them?”  
  
For a long moment, Mae said nothing. “I handle all the combat proficiency testing and approvals for applicants to the Emperor’s Own,” she finally replied, tilting her head towards the one furthest on the left. “Ramus was from Valkorion City. His combat skills were just above acceptable, but he was such a gifted slicer I couldn’t turn him away.” Her gaze shifted one body to the right. “Wraysin loved pulling pranks. He’d get a reprimand, of course, and then behave just long enough for it to be removed from his file before springing another one.” She named and described all six, smiling sadly at the memories, then let out a long, tired sigh. “And now I have to go wake their Captains up and tell them what’s happened so they can tell their families, Scyva help them.” Mae looked back up at the other woman. “Whoever did this had better pray death finds them before I do,” she growled.  
  
“May the vengeance of Tyth guide our hands,” Tirall intoned in reply.  
  
“Thank you for all your help, Lieutenant,” Mae said, saluting. “I hope I hear from you soon.”  
  
Tirall returned the salute. “As do I.”  



	4. Chapter 3 - Solitude

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for how long it’s taken to finish this chapter – due to a family emergency my husband and I have been driving 1,000 miles each way from our house to his mother’s home in Florida about once a week for the last three months. Keeping up with day-to-day life has been hard, and it’s nearly impossible to get much writing done on an air mattress in your mother-in-law’s living room. Fortunately the crisis is now just about resolved, so our lives and schedules are finally getting back to normal. Thanks for your patience and I hope you enjoy!
> 
> Quick guide for how I imagine some characters' names being pronounced:  
> Sievana = “Shih-VAH-na”  
> Visareva = “Veh-SAIR-ehva”; Vi = “Vee”

#### 

Chapter 3 – Solitude

  
The two hooded figures pressed themselves into the shadows draped across either side of the archway, carefully peering around its edges to glimpse the corridor on the other side of the square. They waited as the maintenance droids rattled past, followed by the gang members heading out for a night of thievery or debauchery – or both – before the taller, nimbler one gestured at the shorter, stockier one. Careful to keep their distance from the rusted shelters belonging to those who claimed a patch of dirty metal floor as home, they made their way across. Navigating more by the burning heaps of trash than by any lights, they turned left, then right, then left again until finally the tall one stopped in front a grimy door no different than its neighbors. Fingers punched in a code – the door slid open – the taller one let the shorter one in first, then followed, pulling back her hood –  
  
– And found herself facing the business end of a blaster.  
  
“Theron!” exclaimed Lord Lana Beniko, former Minister of Sith Intelligence. “It’s us!”  
  
The blaster lowered to reveal the man who’d been holding it – green-gold eyes and cranial implants on the left side of his face, beneath brown hair swept up into what Eva had always teasingly called a ‘fauxhawk’. “Lana?!” For a second he looked like he wanted to give the Sith a hug, but instead he just holstered his blaster and ran a hand through his hair. “I’ve been worried sick. Why didn’t you call?”  
  
“My comm was damaged during our escape,” she said, shaking her chin-length blond hair free. “And considering we were on a stolen Zakuulan shuttle I didn’t want to risk using its’ comm systems.” She dropped a small pack on a nearby table as her companion pushed back his hood, revealing a man with a medium-brown complexion, black hair kinked up into short twists, and a mustache and goatee. “I’m sorry we didn’t stop to contact you, but I thought speed was more important than notice.”  
  
Theron frowned. “What did you do with the shuttle?”  
  
“We left it on one of the Hutt Cartel’s landing pads down in the Red Light Sector, and made our way up here from there,” she said with a sigh. Normally she appreciated Theron’s paranoia, if she wasn’t doubling down on it, but today she was just _tired_ and wanted nothing more than a hot meal and a soft bed. “We weren’t followed, and I used the Force to crush enough security cams along the way that we won’t have been tracked, either.”  
  
“You two cut it really close on Arron Prime,” Theron grumbled. “Do you have any idea how much chatter you’ve stirred up?”  
  
“Good to see you, too,” Lana snapped.  
  
“Yes, okay,” Theron huffed, “I’m glad you’re both alive and in one piece. But you almost got caught.”  
  
Lana perched herself on the edge of a nearby chair. “I had it under control.”  
  
“I’m glad you thought so, but it didn’t look that way from here,” Theron muttered.  
  
“Which is why he called me,” said a new voice. It came from a young woman with a dark red ponytail and bangs falling across her forehead who was reclining on a couch in a corner, wearing blaster-scarred but well cared-for heavy armor and sporting two vaguely illegally modified pistols. “He was worried you’d need help, and as it so happens getting my hands on people and spiriting them away without being caught is my specialty.” She stood and approached Lana’s companion, turning her body carefully so he could see the Mandalorian symbols painted on her shoulder pieces. “I’m guessing you’re the Zakuulan turncoat I’ve heard so much about.”  
  
Lana coughed. “Vi, this is Koth Vortena, formerly of the Zakuulan Naval Forces.”  
  
“Very, very formerly,” Koth said, his gaze flicking back and forth between the grey eyes he knew she shared with her older sister – the Outlander – and her blasters.  
  
“Koth, this is Visareva Davu-Cadera, of Clan Cadera,” Lana continued, taking the lack of immediate violence as a good sign. “She’s Eva’s younger sister.”  
  
She took another step closer to Koth, casually draping one hand over the closest blaster butt. “You and your people killed a lot of my clan,” she growled. “My friends.”  
  
“Your people killed a lot of my friends, too,” Koth retorted evenly, meeting her glare.  
  
“None of us can change what’s happened before,” Lana said quickly, moving forward to put her shoulder between them. “Koth is here because he wants to help set things right.” She looked from one to the other, her golden Sith eyes hard and determined. “I know it won’t be easy, but we have to learn to trust each other if this is going to work.”  
  
“Pleased to meet you, Visareva,” Koth said through clenched teeth.  
  
“Just call me ‘Vi’,” she said with a sigh and an eye roll, pronouncing it ‘Vee’. “It saves time.”  
  
Several seconds ticked by in wary silence before Lana cleared her throat. “So,” she said to Vi in a deliberately cheerful voice, “How’s Torian?”  
  
“Exhausted,” Vi replied, brightening immediately. “If you thought normal toddlers were holy terrors, you should see Mandalorian ones,” she added with a glance at Koth.  
  
“Torvan’s still quite the whirlwind, then?” Theron asked, a ghost of a smile on his face. _Auntie Eva would be spoiling him rotten._  
  
“Hell on chubby legs,” Vi laughed. “Don’t let Torian’s whiny emails fool you though – he’s having enough fun to choke a Hutt. He taught Torvan how to dismantle and reassemble this little pocket blaster last week, and was still grinning about it when I left.”  
  
“Is that supposed to be reassuring?” Koth scowled.  
  
Vi’s smile widened. “No.”  
  
“Look, we’re short on time,” Theron cut in. “What did you find?”  
  
Lana pulled out her datapad. “Your spike worked as promised. We got into the Knights’ comms and messages, though we were only able to pull the records for the last six months before their countersecurity shut us down.”  
  
“And?” Theron asked impatiently.  
  
“After Eva was frozen in carbonite she was put somewhere in the Spire,” Lana said, reading off the datapad. “Some of the messages I decrypted called it a storage room, others a trophy room.”  
  
Vi frowned. “So which is it? Or are they moving her around? Trotting her out during the Emperor’s parties so he can rub our faces in our defeat?”  
  
“If she’d been put on public display we’d know,” Lana said grimly. Vi grunted in disgusted agreement – Arcann never missed an opportunity to remind the rest of the galaxy how their best warriors and weapons had been no match for Zakuul. “I think the ‘trophy room’ is a nickname the Knights use amongst themselves for the room Arcann uses to store the many enemies he’s put in carbonite since taking the throne,” Lana continued. “From what I’ve read so far she’s still there.”  
  
“‘Spire’ the city, or ‘Spire’ the building?” Theron asked sharply.  
  
“The messages I’ve been able to decrypt aren’t clear,” Lana admitted with a sigh. The Zakuulan tendency to use the same name for both their capital city and the building that stood at its heart was confusing – deliberately so, Lana thought. “But they’re only a small portion of what we pulled out of their systems. Once we’re able to go through the rest we should learn more.” She pulled a datacard out of her pocket and held it out to Theron. “If you could do the honors.”  
  
Theron popped the card into his own datapad. “How bad is it?”  
  
“It should only take you a few days,” Lana shrugged.  
  
His eyes scanned the file listings scrolling rapidly on the screen. “Please,” he scoffed. “I’ll have it for you by dinnertime tomorrow.”  
  
“Coruscant time or Dromund Kaas time?” Lana grinned.  
  
“So this new source of yours came through, then,” Vi said, glancing over Theron’s shoulder at the files.  
  
“Yes,” Lana nodded. “Told us exactly where in the system to look for these files so we didn’t waste any of the time the data spike gave us.”  
  
“Good – we need all the help we can get,” Theron said, putting his datapad away. “I imagine your network of contacts took a big hit when Bothawui was attacked,” he added darkly.  
  
Lana winced but shook her head, while beside her Koth shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other and stared at the floor. “Not as much as you might think. Imperial Intelligence had a limited physical presence in that system,” she said delicately. Her previous employer wouldn’t appreciate her giving away some of their operational information, but building trust with the people in this room was more important. “Many of my most reliable information brokers were lost, but any vacancy in that profession is always quickly filled. You?”  
  
“More than you, I’m sure,” he sighed. “Even a few I called friends. But just like Bothan corporations have spent centuries expanding operations to other planets, so did the Spynet.” Unlike Lana, Theron had few qualms about sharing techniques and knowledge from his days as a Republic spy. Imperial Intelligence was usually just overconfident and incompetent – except for Lana, of course – but the Republic Strategic Information Service was willfully ignorant and corrupt. “I’ve already heard from a couple of contacts that were based offworld – they’ll be back up and running in no time.”  
  
“Good – then that won’t set us back too far,” Lana said with a nod. “At least now that we know her general location we can start asking our sources the right kind of questions.”  
  
“Schematics for specific locations, information on security systems and patrols,” Theron recited, also nodding.  
  
Vi allowed herself a small, vicious grin. “And then we start planning.”  
  
“It took us almost three years just to get this far,” Theron muttered, his voice growing thick and hoarse. “How much longer –“ He broke off, turning his face away.  
  
Lana gently laid one hand on his shoulder. “We’ll get her back, Theron,” she said softly. “I promise you.”  
  
“Don’t promise me,” he snapped back. “Promise her.”  
  
“I have,” Lana intoned solemnly.  
  
Theron turned back towards the others – Koth, still staring guiltily at the floor – Vi, her eyes dark with similar emotions to his – and Lana, looking at him with friendly affection and concern, edged with that single-minded resolve that had drawn them to work together in the first place so many years before. “I know,” he finally sighed. “Thanks.” She gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze before removing her hand. “Alright,” he continued, clearing his throat, “Let’s get you two out of here before a Zakuulan agent sees you.”  
  
“I thought we cleared them out,” Lana said, glancing from Theron over to Vi.  
  
Who shrugged in response. “We did. They sent more.” Lana shook her head. “Come on,” Vi said. “I’ve got a nice, innocent-looking personal cruiser stashed over in the Nikto Sector just waiting for a new crew.”  
  
“Where are you headed?” Theron asked.  
  
“I still have several good safehouses in Imperial territory,” Lana said, picking up her pack from the table. “It’s probably best if I don’t tell you the details.”  
  
“Probably not,” Theron agreed. “Just be careful out there, okay?”  
  
Lana drew herself up in mock indignation. “I always am,” she said with an arched eyebrow – and a smile.  
  
“Nice meeting you,” Koth mumbled, lifting his gaze up long enough to give Theron a nod before he turned to follow Lana and Vi.  
  
“Yeah,” Theron scowled as the door slid shut behind them. “Charmed.” He’d fully agreed with Lana’s assertion that they needed to develop Zakuulan sources if they were ever going to pierce the veil of secrecy that still lay over the Eternal Empire, but when she’d told him about adding Koth to the team – after the fact – they had a bitter argument. ‘You can’t blame him for what happened to Eva.’ ‘No, but he was a part of everything that came after. I can blame him for all the other friends I lost.’ ‘His remorse is genuine, Theron. And it shows Arcann’s grip on his people is starting to weaken.’ ‘Sure. Call me when the Skytroopers spontaneously reprogram themselves and switch sides.’ ‘The day is coming soon when we’re actually going to have to go to Zakuul. We need someone born and raised there to act as our guide.’ ‘Are you mad? We’re both near the top of the Knights’ don’t-bother-to-arrest-just-kill-them-on-sight list, and a deserter’s not going to be far behind.’ ‘Koth knows several ways to sneak in and out of the Spire safely. As for his situation, it’s been dealt with.’ She refused to say how, though Theron imagined Force lightening and her lightsaber were involved. Eventually he relented, but not before making the point that Lana could expect similar skepticism – if not outright hostility – from Eva’s family. ‘I know,’ she’d sighed, ‘But if he can help us take even one small step closer to finding Eva and bringing her home, isn’t it worth the risk?’  
  
Theron dropped into the nearest chair, cradling his head in his hands. “Eva…”  
  
They’d all feared the worst three years ago after Eva’s ship and crew returned with news that she’d been stranded on the Darth Marr’s flagship during an ambush by the mysterious forces sighted before around Hoth and Balmorra. Her apprentice, Kira, said she hadn’t sensed Eva’s death through the Force – but neither could she sense Eva’s presence. His mother, the Jedi Grandmaster Satele Shan, told him the same thing when she turned up on Coruscant to inform the Republic Senate that she’d sensed the death of Darth Marr and the Sith Emperor. Was Eva unconscious? Imprisoned behind some barrier that blocked the Force? After Arcann’s invasion they’d realized she was the ‘Outlander’ blamed for assassinating the Zakuulan Emperor, who somehow was also the Sith Emperor – _at least we got that asshole out of the way –_ however, Eva’s fate after the Emperor’s death was a mystery.  
  
Their first break, ironically, came from Arcann himself a year later in one of his speeches near the end of the war, when he said ‘the Outlander is paying for her crimes against Zakuul’. Present tense – so, still alive. Was she in one of their prisons on their colony worlds? Republic soldiers released from those prisons after the treaty ended the war was signed reported no rumors of a special prisoner, and no strangely heavily guarded compound separate from the rest of the compounds. Once the war was over and he’d quit the SIS he reached out to Lana, and learned she’d heard the same from Imperial prisoners. It took a few more months, and paying off the bar tab of a disgraced former Knight drinking himself to death in a casino on the Promenade, to confirm that Eva was frozen in carbonite immediately after Emperor Valkorion was killed. That brought Theron some relief – at least she hadn’t suffered long, and hopefully wasn’t suffering now – though it just gave his nightmares a sharper focus. Now, nearly a year after that tip, they finally knew the general location of that grey metal slab holding the most precious thing in the world to him.  
  
‘Outlander’ to Zakuulans, ‘Battlemaster’ to the press and people of the Galactic Republic, ‘Master Davu’ to the Jedi Order, ‘Sievana’ to acquaintances, ‘Eva’ to family and friends – but there was another name he’d been planning to give her, only to lose her before he got the chance.  
  
His first clue had been the dagger-like glares her ship’s doctor started giving him after they’d all linked up on Rishi in pursuit of the Revanite cult. Eva shrugged it off, telling him Doc wouldn’t be a problem, but she didn’t say there wasn’t a reason for it – and she was blushing as red as her hair. So he asked Kira, who delightedly described all the times Doc had flirted with Eva harder than a soldier about to ship out for the Outer Rim only to be politely but firmly turned down.  
  
Theron was a bit disappointed in his spy self for not having pieced all the little signs together sooner. How her eyes started lingering on him a second too long – and how often his optical implant spotted her sneaking glances at him when his eyes were looking elsewhere. How the thanks and compliments that she gave him were a bit more personal than what she said to anyone else. Then when he’d been ‘kidnapped’ by the Revanites – _thanks Lana,_ he muttered to himself, as always – the way she’d charged through their base to find him, and the look in her eyes when she saw what they’d done to him… He’d kissed her at the end of their time there, and his own heart took one flip and then a leap off the proverbial cliff.  
  
The only – and biggest – and probably insurmountable – problem was that she was a Jedi, and therefore off limits. For anyone, but _especially_ for him. He wasn’t completely persona non grata amongst the Jedi in spite of being a walking reminder that his mother had broken their rules against ‘entanglements’. But while the Council might be willing to forgive a random civilian who didn’t know their ways for any misbehavior with one of their order, they knew he knew better. Retribution against both of them was sure to be swift and harsh.  
  
So he’d tried to bury his feelings in the mission and tell himself that when it was over they’d go their separate ways and forget about each other. His next assignment would come along and he’d stop thinking about the light in her eyes when she laughed, or the warm tingle that spread through him every time she said his name. For the first few days in the camp on Yavin 4, especially with his mother/her Grandmaster and an entire Sith fleet killing the mood, it worked. Until their final battle with Revan, when he spotted a bolt of Force lightening heading his way a second too late – only for Eva to leap from the other side of the battlefield to put her lightsabers, and herself, between him and death.  
  
_Screw the Jedi and their rules._  
  
They’d only had a few hours on board his shuttle, in the little bed wedged between the navigation console and the holoterminal. But they’d been a few of the best hours of his life.  
  
He couldn’t – and wouldn’t – stop what happened after that. The messages and comms they exchanged whenever they could, even though they were often on opposite sides of the galaxy. The knock on his door a few weeks after Yavin, when a flushed and nervous Eva apologized for not telling him in advance that she was coming to Carrick Station, then asking him to dinner while adorably mentioning a little too obviously that she didn’t need to be back on her ship before morning.  
  
More messages and comms followed, along with a handful of rendezvous. Then during the middle of one night in the Coruscant apartment Eva shared with her older sister she got an urgent comm from her ship alerting her to an urgent message from Darth Marr. She immediately rushed off, but not before giving him a long, slow goodbye kiss. ‘I’ll see you soon,’ she’d said.  
  
“Three years,” he whispered, trying to remember the feel of her lips on his. “Three years.”  
  
“Hey you, it’s me,” a slightly electronic voice called out from a corner of the room. “I’m going to be stuck on Alderaan for a few more days – there’s some ceremony to officially acknowledge the heir to the throne that they want their big hero Jedi to stick around for.” She laughed, and Theron choked back a surge of tears at the sound. “I should still be able to get to Nar Shaddaa on time to meet you at Vi’s place,” Eva continued. “You’ll hate it – waaaayyy too flashy and visible for your tastes, but I think you’ll enjoy the hot tub.” Theron let out a half-sob and half-laugh – he had. “I’ll comm you as soon as I’m in space. Can’t wait to see you. Be safe.”  
  
Theron turned towards the source of the recording, a little astromech droid parked in the corner by the kitchen. At first he’d hated it when T7 would replay Eva’s comms just as Theron was on the edge of giving in to grief and despair – _how did it know, anyhow?_ – not wanting more reminders of her absence. But as the weeks turned into months and then years he grew grateful for these small glimpses of her. The way her nose wrinkled when she smiled. How she absentmindedly played with her hair while reading a datapad. The sound of her voice saying his name. “Thanks, T7,” he said softly.  
  
The droid bounced cheerfully from one leg to the other and beeped _'Theron + T7 + friends = rescue Jedi!'_  
  
“We will, T7,” Theron nodded, wiping away his tears and reaching for his datapad. _Just a little longer, love, and I’ll get to call you by that name for the first time._ “Together, we will.” _Hold on._  


  
________________________________________  


  
“Presenting the Honorable Juwaral Mohdrasaf, Ambassador of the Serene Kingdom of Onderon!”  
  
Mae stifled a groan as the Minister of Revelry, Indo Zal, bowed lowly before the seated Emperor Arcann with a fluttering flourish of his hands as the announced guest stepped forward. _It’s already ten o’clock – how many more are there?_ She glanced over at the line of dignitaries that still ran all the way back from the Grand Ballroom to the Grand Foyer of the Palace of the Eternal Dragon and sighed. It would be at least another hour after the introductions were finished before the Emperor would leave – even longer before the High Justice departed – and the Knights couldn’t start _encouraging_ the remaining guests to leave until both of them were safely back in the Spire. _If I’m lucky I’ll be in bed by three in the morning. More likely four._ She suppressed another sigh as she shifted her position slightly to stretch out the shoulder muscles starting to ache under the weight of the Captain’s shield strapped to her back. At least Fiala and Oshi and the rest had the sense not to schedule anything important before noon tomorrow – no sense in trying to strategize with a room full of zombies.  
  
Another woman in gold armor appeared from the Foyer, heading towards her and bearing a familiar bronze and black pattern on the hilt of her lightsaber. “Lieutenant Rakil,” Mae nodded.  
  
“I know we need to keep up appearances for the rookies, Captain Caducis,” the other woman drawled, “But seriously?”  
  
“You’ll never get promoted if you don’t pay attention to the details,” Mae chimed.  
  
Her best friend since being paired together as roommates their first day at the Academy let out a harsh laugh. “Please – I see how much paperwork you have to do.” She shook her head as she came to stand next to Mae. “Count me out.”  
  
“Othina –“  
  
“Nope. Nope nope nope, nope nope, nope nope nope nope nope nope,” Othina chortled. “You give me that shield and all I’m going to do is use it as a sled.”  
  
Mae chuckled softly. “Hadn’t thought of that one. Maybe I’ll try it when I go up to see my grandfather for Winter Solstice.” The Spire was in too temperate a zone for snow, but the farmhouse and surrounding fields the Caducis family had owned for generations were up in the foothills of the northern Acadin Mountains. There was one long slope on the road to the pond where young Mae could usually be found the morning after a snowfall, zooming down on a toboggan her grandfather had made out of an old aircar door. Her mother would come storming out of the house, scolding her for having gone out alone – but also always bearing a mug of hot spiced tea.  
  
“Holovids or I won’t believe you,” Othina said immediately.  
  
“Deal,” Mae replied, grinning inside her helmet. “So, how’s the evening going for Diplomatic Security?”  
  
Othina glanced around the room at the many other Knights lining the walls and guarding every door and corridor. “Pleasantly routine. The delegation from Hutta is getting a little rowdy, but I’d honestly be more worried if they didn’t.” Another dignitary, this one wearing dark Imperial robes, bowed before Arcann while Minister Zal fussed over the next notable in line. “Ever since Bothawui the grumbling from both sides has gotten much quieter,” she added.  
  
“Good,” Mae said tightly. “A shame so many had to die to get them to see sense, but the sooner they stop resisting our authority the better it’ll be for everyone.”  
  
“I give it six months, tops,” Othina sniffed. “Behind their smiles and flattery the Imperials never stop scheming, and the Republic is too proud to give up the fight.” She jerked her head in the direction of a group of humans wearing richly embroidered robes under gold sashes. “My money’s on the Alderaanians leading the way.”  
  
“Didn’t they just fight a nasty civil war?” Mae asked.  
  
“Yeah,” Othina nodded. “Lots of weapons and ordnance left over from it, too.” Mae let out a displeased snort. “The Organas owe everything they have to the Outlander, from the throne to their lives. They haven’t forgotten that,” she finished grimly  
  
Mae shook her head and sighed. _Why does it always come back to the Outlander?_ “Will your division be sending mine a request for more surveillance?” she asked quietly.  
  
“Probably not. They all know their embassies are so bugged there’s no space left for any actual roaches,” Othina shrugged, “And every important message is triple-encrypted.”  
  
“Intelligence broke that new Corellian code pretty quickly,” Mae offered.  
  
Othina responded with a sharp laugh. “‘Corellian’ being the operative word,” she sneered. “If I need a droid or a ship I’ll give them a call, but I wouldn’t trust them to program my refresher – to say nothing of chained encryption routines.”  
  
Mae couldn’t disagree with that, so she let her eyes wander over to see Minister Zal frantically waving over a service droid to wipe up the damp footprints left behind by the Selkath ambassador. The next group in line was waiting nervously to be introduced, hands fidgeting and feet bouncing as much as they dared within sight of the Emperor. Arcann himself was reclining back in his throne, seemingly relaxed, but even at a distance Mae saw the slump in his shoulders and the emptiness in his gaze. _Gods, he looks bored._  
  
“You think so?” Othina asked. “I can never tell.”  
  
_Did I say that out loud?!_ “I don’t know,” Mae said quickly. “I’d be bored. Wouldn’t you?”  
  
I guess,” Othina said. “Watching the Empire and the Republic prostrate themselves before us was exciting the first dozen or so times, but now...” She let out a dark sigh and inclined her head in the direction of the Emperor, who was coldly eyeing a woman with the guests from the Bank of Zakuul as she bowed so low he must be able to see right down into her dress. “Maybe that’s why he does what he does at these things sometimes.” Mae’s only reply was a low grunt. “Are you on, uh, ‘special’ duty tonight?” Othina asked delicately  
  
“Upside of being promoted,” Mae said tightly. “Those assignments only go to Lieutenants and below.” She didn’t want to think about what might happen later tonight, just like it did about once every few weeks towards the end of similar galas. Two of Arcann’s personal guards would head out into the crowd. They would take up positions on either side of a woman, and after a moment would escort her away from whomever she was with. Her companions – sometimes friends, sometimes a partner – never protested, even when visibly consumed with worry or rage. Some women walked through the crowd like they were in a parade, radiating smug superiority. Others put on a brave face, but through the Force the Knights could sense their quiet terror. None ever dared to say ‘no’.  
  
The woman would be taken back to the private areas of the Palace, but before she could be delivered into the Emperor’s rooms she had to be cleared by a team from Internal Security. Identity validated, then screened for weapons, hidden data spikes, implants – anything that could be a threat to the security of the Emperor or the Spire. Once that was done, Arcann’s personal guard stood watch over the door to his rooms while whatever happened inside happened, but Internal Security manned the halls. When things were finished Arcann’s guard escorted him back to his private apartment up in the Spire, while Internal Security handled the aftermath in the Palace. As far as Mae knew none of his ‘guests’ had ever been injured in any way – _small mercies,_ she thought with a frown. A few women flipped their hair and marched back to their aircars with a _look-at-the-notch-I-got-on-my-belt_ smile that had the Knights in her escort pretending to cough so they wouldn’t laugh. The others left in silence, either too stunned or indifferent to do anything more than comply.  
  
“Doesn’t a Captain have to be on call, in case there’s some trouble?” Othina’s voice cut in.  
  
“Yes,” Mae nodded, “But Captain Yadwen has tonight’s assignment. I’m on deck for the Lunar New Year Festival next week, then Captain Luom got stuck with the Debutante Presentation Ball.”  
  
Othina glanced over at that evening’s unlucky Captain, standing near the doors leading to the private section of the Palace. “I heard he’s retiring at the end of the month,” she whispered.  
  
“I haven’t seen any announcement,” Mae replied a little too lightly.  
  
Othina pounced. “So he is, then?” Mae let her silence serve as her answer. “Wouldn’t have anything to do with Lieutenant Berzoi’s sudden transfer to a colonial patrol, would it?”  
  
“Thina…”  
  
“That’s alright – I know you Captains don’t like to be seen trading in rumors and innuendos with the rank-and-file,” Othina said airily. “Though I don’t need you to confirm that her husband wasn’t happy about being hustled offworld on only a day’s notice.”  
  
“I bet he was unhappier about the affair,” Mae muttered.  
  
Othina snorted angrily. “That would be the sword calling the dagger sharp.”  
  
“The one-day deadline was for Berzoi clear out her office,” Mae said lowly. If there was going to be gossip – and there always was – she could at least make sure it was accurate. “They gave them a week to move to her new duty station.”  
  
“A whole week? Generous,” Othina scoffed. “Do you think I should apply for Yadwen’s job?” she asked after a moment’s pause. “I know I just said I didn’t want to be a Captain,” she added as Mae started to object, “But Diplomatic Security is starting to get boring.”  
  
“Thina, you know I love you, but the person in charge of cybersecurity for the Spire should at least have a basic knowledge of slicing,” Mae said, laughing softly while she shook her head. “I sat next to you in Fundamental Principles of Network Security, and I know for a fact you can’t hack your way out of an unlocked closet.”  
  
“You didn’t do much better,” Othina shot back with an audible grin.  
  
Mae shrugged. “What can I say? I prefer to do my slicing with a lightsaber.”  
  
“Why is violence always your first choice?” Othina teased. “In this new era of galactic peace under the benevolent leadership of our glorious Eternal Emperor, why can’t we all just get along?” Mae tilted her head at her friend, knowing there was a mischievous smile on her face, and confident Othina knew there was a _seriously?_ look on hers, before both women burst into muffled laughter. “Hey,” Othina said when they caught their breath, “I stopped by your office yesterday to see if you wanted to grab lunch, but your staff told me you were in a meeting.”  
  
“One of the downsides of being promoted,” Mae replied, hoping her tone struck the right balance between amusement and annoyance. ‘In a meeting’ or ‘out on an inspection’ were the most common excuses she and Commander Oshi used to explain away her absences for the sessions with Arcann. “In addition to all the forms you mentioned earlier I’m required to show up for enough meetings and conference holocalls to frustrate even the Republic bureaucrat you had that run-in with last year.”  
  
“Dear gods, don’t remind me,” Othina moaned. “Did I tell you I was _this close_ to sending him to the High Justice on some flimsy allegation of espionage,” she continued, gesturing with her fingers. “Not enough for her to kill him, unless she was in one of her moods, but enough to give me the satisfaction of watching him try not to shit himself in those fancy robes.”  
  
“Really?” Mae allowed herself a smile underneath the safe cover of her helmet – her staff had told her of Othina’s visit, so she’d had time to plan how to deflect her friend’s question without seeming too evasive. “Next time let me know – I can arrange to have some evidence planted in his quarters.” _Nothing to see here, move along._  
  
Othina tilted her head to one side. “I hadn’t thought of that. Maybe a datapad with some messages that it doesn’t take Intelligence too long to –“ She broke off suddenly, one hand snapping up to press the comm unit in her helmet flush against her ear. “I’m here, sir.” Mae waited in silence as her friend listened. “Understood and acknowledged. I’ll be there right away,” Othina said crisply, glancing over at the corridor leading to the Grand Foyer. “Clear.” She turned back to Mae with a sigh. “Duty calls.”  
  
“And never seems to lose our frequency.”  
  
“Or find a new girlfriend,” Othina groaned. “Quick question – you are in for Tulat’s birthday party, right? Dinner at the Stratosphere Grill, and then the opera?”  
  
“Wouldn’t miss it,” Mae nodded. “Just as long as I’m not –“  
  
“On duty,” Othina finished with a weary laugh. “Gods, we need lives."  
  
It was Mae’s turn to laugh. “You’re the one who’s managed to snag a wife. I haven’t been on a date since…” Her voice faltered as she started counting on her fingers. “Was it that guy who started chatting me up at the stickball match because we were the only two people in sight wearing Northern Rangers jerseys?”  
  
“If you can’t remember it’s been too long,” her friend chuckled.  
  
Mae gave Othina a _yeah-yeah-tell-me-about-it_ wave of her hand. “But where would Zakuul be without us?”  
  
“I think Zakuul would be fine for one night,” Othina said gently, before drawing herself up in a salute. “Have a good evening, Captain. Be safe.”  
  
“Same to you, Lieutenant,” Mae replied as she returned the salute. Othina gave her one more short nod, then strode away.  
  
Mae frowned glumly at her friend as she vanished into the crowd. _I’m not lying to her,_ she told herself. _I was in a meeting. I just neglected to mention it was a secret, one-on-one meeting involving sparring blades and Force powers. With the Emperor._  
  
She glanced back over at the sullen figure on the gilded throne, being presented with another one of the mercifully dwindling line of dignitaries and acknowledging him with only the slightest wave of his hand. It was hard to square the listless and disinterested Emperor sitting there with the man who never turned up late to their sessions, then spent every moment either snarling in frustration or crowing triumphantly. _I guess I should take it as a compliment that our sessions are less boring than a diplomatic reception,_ she thought, _even though that’s like being told you’re the prettiest girl in a room full of Hutts._ Mae arched her back and settled into a comfortable resting stance, her gaze drifting over the crowds. _I wonder if he–_  
  
“Captain Caducis?” squawked Commander Oshi’s voice in her ear.  
  
“Yes, sir?”  
  
“Your assistance is required upstairs in the bar area,” his voice said. “Another drunken argument between Republic and Imperial officials over what really happened on Makeb.”  
  
_Dear gods, that was six years ago – can’t they let it go?_ Not that it really mattered, so long as whatever trouble they made was not allowed to disturb the Emperor. “On my way. Clear.” She shot one more glance towards the masked figure at the center of all attention, yet looking like he wanted to be anywhere else, before turning away with a shake of her head and heading for the stairs.  


  
________________________________________  


  
The large durasteel doors slid aside to reveal a large room filled with computers and display screens, its floor-to-ceiling windows on three sides looking out at the tops of the clouds hovering at eye level and down at the roofs of the buildings below. “And finally, Your Majesty, this is our new main control center,” said Overwatch Administrator Tayvor Slen as Arcann and handful of other guests stepped inside. “We used to have separate control rooms for each different type of function performed by our droids – maintenance, public safety, domestic chores. Now all data from every droid on the network will flow through here.” He waved his hand at the different sets of consoles. “Every error or anomaly will trigger an alert, and we’ll be able to send out requests for information with a single push of a button. Once it’s fully operational, we estimate a savings of over twenty man-hours a week just in responding to data requests from the Knights,” he added proudly.  
  
“With so many droids in the Spire, aren’t you worried about having too much data to go through?” Minister Yermo asked, peering over at the nearest monitor. “One small piece of data that is truly important could be easily lost in an avalanche of routine reports.”  
  
“The functional subgroups will still use their control rooms for day-to-day management of their droids and their workload, but anything out of the ordinary will immediately be referred to the command staff here,” Administrator Slen reassured him.  
  
Arcann stifled a yawn – he hadn’t gotten back to his rooms from the gala last night until late – then glanced over towards a man standing quietly at the back of the group, whose simple dress and unassuming air were betrayed by the sophisticated implants on his temples. Zhedius was his chief steward, responsible for making and keeping Arcann’s daily schedule as well as managing all the little details of daily life an Emperor didn’t have time for, and he could always be found either in the Emperor’s shadow or working behind the scenes to ensure all things around Arcann ran smoothly. The people might think all of space and time revolved around their Emperor, but the man sitting on the Eternal Throne quickly learned that punctuality and preparedness were as essential to managing an empire as armies and fleets. Which was why Zhedius now casually crossed his arms across his chest and tapped two fingers against the opposite forearm – _they may have ten minutes more of your time,_ the gesture said. “’Once it’s fully operational’?” Arcann repeated slowly. “I was told this facility would be complete no later than the beginning of this month.”  
  
“Ah, yes, that was the original plan,” the Administrator said haltingly while the cybernetic implants over his right eye flashed rapidly. “But we’ve had some problems with the public safety systems that caused delays.” Arcann merely arched his eyebrow and waited. “Slicers, Your Majesty,” Slen continued with a nervous cough. “They can’t break through our firewalls, but they can leave a mess behind. Our staff has spent so much time trying to identify and repair their damage that they haven’t been able to finish migrating all the droids into the new system.”  
  
The Minister of Intelligence – and Slen’s immediate predecessor as Overwatch Administrator – perked up. “Have you been able to trace these slicers?”  
  
“Yes and no, Minister Collios,” Slen said through clenched teeth. “We’ve traced the source of the attacks to a series of nodes on Nar Shaddaa, but –“  
  
“But as it’s Nar Shaddaa there’s no way of knowing who’s behind the console,” Minister Collios finished. “Imperials, the Republic, the Hutts, even the Chiss – they’re all there, spying on each other and trying to spy on us.”  
  
“The Outlander’s lover was said to be an exceptionally gifted slicer, wasn’t he?” Minister Yermo mused.  
  
Arcann turned away from the rest of the group as their guessing game began, pretending to care about the data feed scrolling across the nearest screen long enough to keep himself from screaming at all of them to just _shut up_. He was tired of excuses, of nodding patiently while one lackey after another tried to justify their incompetence. He was _especially_ tired of the Outlander being woven into their alibis, as if simply invoking her name made the problems they faced too great for any mere mortal to solve. She’d been safely frozen in carbonite for nearly three years, whatever threat she might have posed to him or to Zakuul that day in the throne room sealed away with her. Her Republic was too deeply fractured to care about anything other than their own squabbles, and the Imperials would never stick their necks out for a Jedi. Any further talk of the Outlander was a waste of breath.  
  
Last night’s diplomatic reception had been the latest reminder to the rest of the galaxy of Zakuul’s dominance, forcing all the ambassadors from the conquered systems to present the inventory of their quarterly tribute payments in person. Necessary to maintain control, but serving a vital purpose didn’t prevent the occasion from being utterly boring. The same diplomats and functionaries as the quarter before and the quarter before that, presented in the same order, paying him the same insincere compliments and cracking the same pathetically unfunny jokes. Even the food and wine was from one of the same half dozen menus the kitchen rotated through without variation. Only a drunken argument over some past incident between the Republic or the Empire – or even better, though rarer, about some romantic liaison gone bad – sometimes livened up the atmosphere, but if there were any of those last night they’d been carefully concealed from his sight.  
  
The look in the woman’s eyes was an all-too familiar one – ‘I’m available,’ it said, ‘if you just say the word.’ She’d been with a delegation from some mining company based on one of their smaller colony worlds. He didn’t remember hearing her name then and didn’t care about remembering it now. Black hair longer than he usually liked, but dark green eyes and skin the color of that ‘hot chocolate’ that had been all the rage when the tribute from Chandrila first arrived. He watched her and a few others throughout the night, choosing her in the end because she seemed the quietest – the chattier ones sometimes soured his mood by trying to make small talk with him beforehand. He’d never had a talent for casual conversation, no matter how much Thexan had encouraged him, and each moment spent on something other than what she’d been summoned for was a waste of time. _Just a brief distraction,_ he’d thought as she allowed herself to be silently led away by his guards. _Just enough to get me through the night._  
  
Nothing was wrong with her, or the encounter. She didn’t anger him by using his name, trying to touch him anywhere he didn’t place her hands, or even speaking of the mask that remained firmly in place. She hadn’t simply laid back and endured the act until it was done – neither had she been one of those who screamed their way through it with such naked falsity that he sometimes had to put so much effort into not losing interest that he had trouble finishing. All her moans had come at the right times – whether genuine or not – and it hadn’t been too fast nor taken too long. It had all just been…unsatisfying.  
  
While the Knights who’d stood guard outside came in to escort the lady away he tried to put the pieces together. The physical release alone had always been enough to leave him relaxed and content, but this time it had no effect. All he felt was a hollow relief that it was over with. His mood had darkened as he stalked out of the Palace back to his private rooms up in the Spire, the little of his expression that could be seen encouraging his personal guards to stay an extra step behind.  
  
Arcann scowled back down at the computer as it beeped unhappily and began flashing a series of error messages, balling his hands into fists. His sleep had been fitful and restless – he barely touched his breakfast – a pointless meeting to discuss the battlecruiser production the Republic thought they were keeping secret on Corellia forced him to miss lunch to get to _this_ meeting – and now if Slen and all the other lackeys around him didn’t stop wasting his time, Arcann was in danger of being late to his training session. Which was _not_ something he would allow.  
  
“Enough!” Arcann roared, banging his fists on the console screen. Silence blanketed the room as all other eyes in the room snapped to him. A small gesture from his steward caught Arcann’s attention – a single finger, tapped twice – _their time is up._ “These slicers, whoever they are, shouldn’t disturb us any more than a single stone thrown into an ocean.” _Yes, it certainly is._ “You will have this system working as promised by the end of the month, or I will order my flagship to fire on this building and reduce these machines to the useless scrap metal they are!” he thundered, kicking his right foot out at the base of the computer for good meas –  
  
_– aaaaaahhhhhhoooooOOOWWWWW!_  
  
He clenched his teeth as his foot exploded in pain, willing his visible eye to stay open while his mask hid all other reactions. In his anger he’d put a little too much force – and Force – into his kick, and though he instinctively pivoted to using the Force to calm and contain the sharp, burning sensation flooding his senses it was a long moment before he had enough control to speak again. “And you and all your incompetent staff will be in here, too,” he said slowly, the strain in his voice adding extra menace to his words. “Do I make myself clear, Administrator?”  
  
“Very clear, Your Majesty,” a pale Slen said quickly, saluting. “We’ll work night and day to get it done.”  
  
Arcann didn’t dignify him with a response, simply marching past him and back out the double doors – as best he could on a foot that felt like it was full of needles with each step. Behind him his steward spoke softly into the comm unit on his wrist to alert his shuttle that he was coming. The others murmured their farewells as he passed, saluting or bowing. Whether or not they could tell he was in pain, they would never dare to say anything that would draw attention to it. The Emperor was infallible, invincible. He did not suffer injury, and even if he did he certainly did not show it. To suggest otherwise invited dismissal, exile, or even death. _Maybe I just hit a nerve,_ he thought hopefully, not wanting to think he might have lost himself in another moment of foolish anger. _A simple matter of controlling the pain until it fades._  
  
The shuttle ride into the swamp provided some relief. His personal guards knew better than to speak unless spoken to, and Zhedius – who did occasionally speak – had gone back to the Spire, but as soon as they landed and Arcann stood to exit he knew it wasn’t just an ache or a nerve. _A sprain at best,_ he thought, trying to locate and isolate the pain as he carefully made his way into the training center. _If she notices I’m moving slowly I will say it’s because I am tired. I will not let her see –_  
  
“What happened?” Mae frowned, arms crossed across her chest as he felt her eyes and her senses sweeping over him.  
  
“Nothing,” he muttered crossly.  
  
“Number one, I have eyes, and I can see that you’re not moving the way you normally do. Two, I can sense through the Force that you’re in physical pain. And three, part of a Force healer’s training is how to locate and diagnose an injury when the patient is unable – or unwilling – to give you that information.” Her eyes narrowed as she stared at him, drumming her fingers against a forearm for several seconds. “So how did you break your right foot?”  
  
Arcann stared down at his foot. “Broken?”  
  
“Yes, broken,” she nodded, tilting her head to one side. “So…?”  
  
“It’s none of your concern,” he snapped.  
  
“If you injured yourself practicing I need to know what move you were doing so I can figure out if it was bad technique or just an unlucky step,” Mae shot back.  
  
“I was not practicing,” Arcann stated flatly. Mae tilted her head and raised her eyebrows questioningly, and after several seconds of staring into her stubborn gaze he yielded with an exasperated sigh. “I was being given excuses for why a new security system is not ready yet.” _‘And then you lost control, harming no one but yourself,’_ his father’s scornful voice echoed, so clear in his memory even after so many years. Arcann winced, grateful Mae couldn’t see through the mask to the shameful flush he could feel spreading across his face. “And I kicked one of the terminals.”  
  
Mae’s lips twitched. “You…kicked…the…comp –“  
  
“If you laugh I will have you executed,” Arcann growled.  
  
She quickly coughed a few times, keeping her mouth covered until her expression was under control. “Would healing it for you be worth at least an upgrade to exile?’ she asked delicately, watching Arcann glare down at his foot as his embarrassment fought his pain for a few long moments before he glanced up and gave her a short nod. “Come on, sit down,” she said gently, waving him over to the nearest bench while summoning two small storage crates with the Force. “Put your foot here.” He rested the foot on top of one crate as Mae sat down on the second, positioning her hands a few inches above Arcann’s foot and closing her eyes.  
  
Arcann leaned back, feeling the warm tingle of the Force seeping into him as she began her work. He still wasn’t quite used to the sensation – his father had banned Force healers from treating the wounds his children suffered, wanting them to feel the pain and weaknesses their failures caused. It also felt unlike any other Force power he’d been exposed to before. Instead of a sharp, draining feeling flowing through his body, when Mae healed him it like being wrapped in a blanket, or warming himself by a fire – a few weeks ago after he’d twisted his knee and she had to heal several ligaments at the same time it had seemed like he was soaking in a hot bath. _I wonder if that’s what the Jedi and Sith truly mean when they speak of a ‘light’ and ‘dark’ side of the Force,_ he thought, closing his eyes. _Not something inherent in the Force itself, but in how it feels when you use it in different ways to –_  
  
“This is why I beat you as often as I do, you know.”  
  
He cracked his unmasked eye open at the sound of Mae’s voice – he could use the mask’s visual display to see her without her knowing, but preferred the clarity and color of his natural sight to the orange-hued, pixilated distortion of the visor. “It wouldn’t have slowed me down _that_ much,” he countered. _Besides,_ he mused absentmindedly, imagining the grey eyes currently hidden from view, _she’s far from unpleasant to look at._  
  
“Not the what, the why,” she sighed, fingers twitching in time to the sensations he felt in his foot. “When you let yourself get overwhelmed by anger and frustration you lose control, and when you lose control you lose patience and do something you shouldn’t.” She opened her eyes and sent a mildly irritated glance in his direction. “You’re in your own head, when you should be in your opponent’s.”  
  
“You’ve said that before,” Arcann grumbled. It was a variation on her constant exhortations for him to ‘Focus!’, especially when he felt – and he knew she could feel – the red tide rising in his mind. “But you’re not the one who has to spend every waking moment surrounded by inept sycophants blaming their failures on anyone and anything else.” Mae said nothing, her movements continuing. “Unfortunately, all their possible replacements are just as inept, if not worse – or so they tell me,” Arcann added, letting out a disgusted noise. Mae nodded understandingly while her fingers continued their movements, but remained silent. “I know they’re lying, but their thoughts are so riddled with deceit I can’t tell whether it’s to conceal the true scale of their incompetence or to hide a subordinate who might – aaahhh!” Arcann cried out at a sudden stab of pain from his foot. Mae grimaced but kept her hands and the Force flowing steadily. “How much longer will this take?” Arcann snarled, kicking his foot out at her.  
  
Mae’s fingers froze while their owner fixed him with calm but defiant glare. “Alright, control will have to wait for later,” she said evenly. “We’ll start with patience.” Her hands resumed their work, though more slowly than before. “The reason I’m not done healing your foot is because you’ve broken not just one bone but five,” she began. “Some of them are very small and fiddly, and if I don’t take my time and be careful to heal them properly, then no matter what your doctors back in the Spire do you will be limping and in constant pain for the rest of your life.”  
  
Arcann surveyed her tight, confident smile and the hard certainty in her eyes and decided not to disagree. “Very well,” he said through his teeth. _At least I know I have one competent person in my service._ “Continue.” Mae nodded in response, picking up the pace of her movements. “I trust my Knights are not as riddled with useless fools as my ministries?”  
  
“We’ve got a few,” she frowned. “The Force grants its users many kinds of powers, but the ability to cure stupid isn’t one of them.” Arcann let out a cynical chuckle in agreement. “Some have enough political connections to get promoted a few times, but we usually manage to keep them out of positions where they might do real damage. Out of the Emperor’s Own, for example,” she added proudly.  
  
He gave her an appreciative nod. “What do you do about the ones who do have some power?”  
  
“The first thing we do is try to give their most critical duties to someone else,” she scowled. “Then we make sure everyone who works for them is good enough to fix any mistakes.”  
  
“And when that fails?”  
  
Mae sprouted a mischievous grin. “I come here,” she said, looking around at the armor and weapons lining the walls, “And see how much of a dent I can make in the budget for replacing damaged or destroyed equip –“  
  
_DINGDINGDING – DINGDINGDING – DINGDINGDING –_  
  
Arcann had barely started to fumble in his pockets for his holocomm when he heard Mae hiss “Tyth’s breath!” and tilt her head towards a small backpack across the room. “I told them not to call me while I was gone,” she snarled. “As soon as I find out who it is I’m going to –“  
  
“I thought we are supposed to control our anger and practice patience,” Arcann said coolly.  
  
_He did NOT_ – Mae bit her lip to fight back the first retort that flared up instinctively, taking in and letting out a deep breath before turning steely eyes towards her patient. “Be quiet,” she growled – “Both of you –“ her gaze snapped to the other side of the room – the backpack jumped and fell silent – “And let me concentrate.” She could almost feel Arcann smirking at her underneath his mask as he leaned back and closed his eyes. _I did walk right into that one,_ she thought with a shake of her head and a sigh as she resumed her healing. _But who knew he had a sense of humor?_  
  
Several more minutes passed in comfortable silence before Mae pulled her hands away. “Done,” she said, standing and stretching. “Walk around on that for a minute to see how it feels while I deal with this.” She turned and marched over towards her backpack while Arcann swung his leg around and stood up carefully. He saw her pull a holocomm out of the pack as he started pacing back and forth, frown at what she saw on its display and then punch a few buttons. “I thought I told you not to call me during this time block,” she hissed softly into the audio receiver.  
  
“Yes, Captain,” a male voice replied. “But Enforcement got a response to the Priority Aurek bulletin. A good one.”  
  
“How good?”  
  
“Very good. And very hot.” The voice paused. “I think we need to move on it right away.”  
  
Mae let out a long breath. “Okay, Lieutenant. Calling me was the right thing to do. I’ll comm you when I’m ten minutes out.”  
  
“Yes, ma’am,” the audibly relieved voice said. “We’ll be ready. Clear.”  
  
“Clear.” Mae ended the call and dropped the holocomm back into her pack. “All better?” she asked turning towards Arcann.  
  
“I think so,” he nodded. “You have to go?”  
  
_First you browbeat him about patience and control and now you’re walking out on him – brilliant, Mae, really brilliant._ “I should,” she said reluctantly. “And though it may feel fine you should give that foot a few hours’ rest.”  
  
“I understand,” Arcann said with another nod. Mae turned and took hold of her pack. “What is it you need to go do?” She paused, frowning. “I’m curious what might be so important for your staff to disobey your orders, and for you to forgive them,” he explained.  
  
_Because you never would?_ Mae wondered, hesitating. It wasn’t really appropriate for her to discuss an open case without approval from her commanders, but he was the Emperor and he could always change his question into an order. “Two days ago the bodies of six members of the Emperor’s Own were found in a back alley down in the Old World,” she said darkly. “They’d gone out for a night on the town and were in civilian clothes. It looked like a robbery gone terribly wrong, but the Enforcement Division smelled a bog rat and called us. All the victims’ passcards had been taken, and the autopsies showed that one was killed with a lightsaber and another by having his lungs crushed inside his body.” Arcann’s visible eye narrowed suspiciously. “When we checked the access records for their quarters we saw they’d been entered one time less than an hour after the Knights were killed,” Mae continued. “All of the rooms had been ransacked. We’re still trying to figure out how much they took.”  
  
“Were there no security cameras to capture images of the thieves?”  
  
“The footage from every feed with a halfway decent angle of the alley or the apartments is mysteriously corrupted during the relevant timeframes,” Mae said with a cynical smile. “Which means at least one of this crew is a very talented slicer.” She slung her pack over one shoulder. “I keep rolling it all around in my head and the only way it makes sense to me is for the attackers to have targeted these six because they were Knights. So we’re going to find them, and we’re going to make sure they receive the justice they deserve,” she finished, anger flaring in her eyes.  
  
“I almost feel sorry for your prey,” Arcann rumbled, noting how the fiercely determined look on Mae’s face reminded him of Vaylin when she was young. “I will not keep you from your duties any longer.” He moved slowly towards the doors while Mae walked over to the control panel to begin locking down the building’s systems. The main lights went out, and in the sudden darkness he found himself feeling disappointed that their time was over so quickly. “I have nothing scheduled tomorrow afternoon,” he said. “Would you be available to come back out here around two o’clock?”  
  
Mae blinked – Arcann usually had his steward handle all the scheduling. “I should be,” she said slowly. But this was the first time they’d had to cancel a session, so she supposed it made sense to handle the rescheduling on the spot. “I’ll comm your steward if I can’t make it.”  
  
“I will see you then,” Arcann said, giving her his usual respectful nod and turning to head back to his shuttle.  
  
She didn’t know what made her say it. Having to cancel on the Emperor was nerve-wracking enough, then talking about the case got her worked up about it all over again. So when she looked back down and saw her fingers hovering over the console, her mind didn’t have time to stop her instinct from calling back to him.  
  
“Try not to kick any more computers. I don’t do housecalls.”  
  
Arcann laughed.  
  
It was just one laugh, low and short, but the sound of it froze him in mid-stride and her in mid-keystroke. He turned back to look at her – the dim light in the room made her grey eyes seem even paler and larger than usual, and her hair shimmered a darker auburn in the shadows. “I’ll try my best,” he replied quietly, his eyes inadvertently skimming the rest of her figure before he pulled them away. He walked quickly out to the shuttle, nodding at the Knight in the cockpit to take off as he dropped down into the nearest chair and replayed those last few moments in his mind.  
  
_When was the last time I laughed?_  



End file.
